


Otherworlder

by Undead Artist (UndeadArtist)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anxiety, Dissociation, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Female Friendship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Misunderstandings, Modern Girl in Thedas, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protectiveness, Self-Mutilation, Slow Burn, Smoking, Stillbirth, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, she thinks shes handling things but she's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 55,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndeadArtist/pseuds/Undead%20Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ON HIATUS]</p><p>Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed. </p><p>She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome To Thedas

**Author's Note:**

> Hoist thee flags, traveller

Aleksanteri prodded the dead body with a stick, carefully lifting the eyelid with the tip it and tilting her head thoughtfully. “She’s dead.” _Obviously,_ her brain snarked. The fact that there was a gigantic hole in the middle of her chest instead of breasts was sort of a dead giveaway. 

She sat back on her butt and drew her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “This is a problem.” 

Instead of dying, as she’d so clearly been about to as she skidded headlong into traffic, she’d crashed headlong into a forest filled with dead people. Her bike was whole, if a bit scratched, and the packages she’d been delivering were all whole and with her…

“…”

“Cigarettes and cocaine.” She made a noise of irritation and turned the large bag of white powder in her hand, surrounded by brown paper. Stacked next to her was a pile of over twenty packages of cigarettes. “I don’t know what I expected considering its Anthony’s.” She dropped the bag. “Was Anthony’s, I suppose.” She scrubbed her short hair. “Oh man is he gonna be pissed.” She giggled nervously. 

She’d been working for Anthony since he found her ten-year-old self digging through a garbage can and forcefully recruited her. He’d gotten her inked with his mark some long seven months later.

She reached up and touched the underside of her left eye where the thick blocky letters spelled out _котенок,_ the last letter touching just above her lip. 

At fifteen she’d rebelled by slowly starting to ink up the rest of her skin. It started with Harley Quinn on her arm, weaving in with Poison Ivy, Catwoman, Batgirl- her right arm had quickly been filled with Star Wars characters and her chest and back had a myriad of different fantasy and sci-fi characters all mixing together with marks and titles from different shows and films. She’d only recently finished her right leg with Dragon Age characters and her left was half-finished with lord of the rings elves, Galadriel staring up at her from her thigh. 

Anthony had lashed her the first time he saw them but it hadn’t stopped her from getting more. 

… She might have gone slightly overboard. 

But they made the loneliness bearable 

Shaking her head roughly before her mind wandered down bad parts she rose quickly. Stuffing the cocaine and most of the cigarettes down her satchel she dumped the rest into the basket hooked to the side of her bicycle. “No use hanging around dead bodies.” She rationalised. “Signs of life is always good. And water. What I wouldn’t do for some water…”

About five hours later she was thoroughly regretting only wearing a t-shirt and jeans and not packing a bottle of water or crackers or _something._

But then, she hadn’t exactly planned to skid into traffic and end up in the middle of nowhere instead of dying. 

“Bad thoughts, bad thoughts,” she hummed to herself. 

At least her sneakers weren’t totally useless. Only slightly. As in, her socks were wet from the mud sinking through but at least they weren’t sloshing with water.

“Although if they had been filled with water, at least I’d be able to drink it,” she mused. 

She leaned her bike against a large tree after retreating a bit into the forest. Enough that she wasn’t immediately visible but still close enough to keep an eye out. She broke some large branches and piled them up, using her bike to build a rough shelter for the night. 

She curled up, huddling up with her satchel close to her chest and one leg half-hooked around her bike.

-

One moment she was dunking her face into a stream and practically sucking the water down her parched throat and two seconds later she was puking it right back up. 

_Idiot!_ Her mind howled. She knew better! She did. But she was on her fifth day in this, this _limbo_ and all she’d had was dew carefully sucked from leaves in the morning. She knew hunger, she knew what her body did when it was overwhelmed after days of nothing.

She spat acidic water from her mouth, panting. And then carefully bent down to lap a mouthful of fresh cool water and waited anxiously for her stomach to settle. It took a good two hours before she dared to swallow down one proper mouthful after the other. 

She collapsed on the grass, panting. 

“Fucking hell, I’m alive,” she grinned up at the midday sun, her stomach aching, but feeling satisfied. 

Of course, that’s when she saw the _dragon._

One second she was slumbering beneath the sun, the other a large shadow whipped over her with enough force to send her bike crashing into her as she clung wide-eyed to the grass. _“Wow.”_ She gaped at the glittering golden hide of the large creature and clamped her hands over her ears as it roared, loud and mighty. Large claws, a long snout with long sharp teeth and a wickedly long tail with rows of spikes and a thick club of them at the end. There was no mistaking the creature.

She struggled out from beneath her bike and stared up at the circling… dragon…

“…”

“It’s gonna try and eat me, isn’t it?” It landed, earth shaking and Alek swallowed thickly, grabbing her satchel and hugging it close as she stumbled back. “Called it.” She spun, yanking her bike up and straddled it in one go, desperate to get it going. "Worst fucking afterlife _ever_." 

She skidded left violently, narrowly dodging a blast of ice cold frost tearing past her. “I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BREATHE _FIRE!?_ ” She shouted at the dragon, wide-eyed. 

The dragon roared in response. 

There were no trees and Aleksanteri peddled fiercely towards the large rocky outcrop that looked vaguely like she might lead to a cave-

That’s when fire whipped past her. 

For one bewildered second she thought that the dragon had decided to be a proper fire-breathing dragon – but then there was a _man_ with a _stick_ and the most beautiful moustache she had ever seen. And there was a short haired woman with shield and sword and brilliant white eye on her chest and –

Bloody fucking hell, her limbo was _Dragon Age._

She came to a skidding halt before she managed to drive right into a hulking Iron Bull and stopped, gaping. “Not what I expected when I woke up.” She blubbered somewhat nervously to herself as Iron Bull roared and tore past her to heave his large hammer against the unprotected side of the golden beast. 

“Get back!” A Nevarran accented voice snapped at her in irritation and Aleksanteri squeaked, her heart leaping at seeing _Cassandra _Bloody_ Pentaghast in person. _

But then cold blasted past her and she figured her admiration could wait until she wasn’t being contemplated as food for a fantasy creature in a video game. 

“I’d keep well out of the way with that strange contraption of yours if I were you.” A Tevene accent drawled and she swallowed as she turned to look at Dorian Pavus in the flesh, his staff raised as he kept his protective shield over the three fighters down by the dragon. 

She rolled forward, closer, and peered down at the Iron Bull and the Seeker and the unfamiliar qunari she’d been too distracted to take note of properly. The sparkling of its left hand was sort of a dead giveaway to just who she was looking at.

Fire magic and electricity slammed into the beast and Aleksanteri felt a bubbling of respect for the way Dorian manipulated the elements. The brute strength of Iron Bull and the finesse of Cassandra as she masterfully slammed her shield into one dragonling while beheading another and spun to bury her sword into the thigh of the large beast. 

The Herald twirled a magic staff in their left hand and a sword in their right, skin so grey it was practically purple. 

“Get down!” Dorian shouted and Aleksanteri, who knew that tone, fell flat before the words thoroughly registered. “Don’t just stand there.” The mage berated once the blast of ice had passed. “You’ll end up colder than our dear Ambassador in the morning.” 

Half of her mind went; _omghe’stalkingaboutJosephine_ while the other got her stumbling towards the Altus who spared a curious glance from the corner of his eyes. 

Alek nervously edged down the right leg of her pants with the tip of her boot, suddenly feeling oddly stalkerish. She was very thankful for the life choices that made her get into DC and Star Wars long before she discovered Dragon Age. 

Although, knowing Dorian’s ego he might just appreciate his beautiful face smirking from her calf.

That, before he left her in Leliana and Iron Bulls clever hands. 

She stuck close to Dorian, sprinting when he did, kicking dragonlings as they swarmed around them until someone but her got a weapon into them, and generally tried very hard not to be a nuisance. 

She yelped when she was hoisted into the air before she could be severed by arm long claws and found herself on a giant back. “Stick tight.” Iron Bull grumbled to her and Aleksanteri looped her arms tight around a thick grey neck just as the dragon shrieked. 

Only sheer stubbornness kept her from sliding boneless to the ground. Iron Bull stumbled but kept up and Dorian was shielded by a scowling Herald as Cassandra knelt behind her shield, teeth clenched tight as she struggled against the effect of dragon magic washing over them.

Cassandras sword finally drove past the stubbornly thick hide as Iron Bull drove his hammer down its head and Dorian and the Herald cracked the air with thick electrical magic. 

Aleksanteri slowly slid down the large qunari’s back, stumbling woozily.

“That’s one way to spend one’s Monday.” She reached out to study herself on a rock. The sound of a sword sheeting made her look up and squint at the Herald. 

Qunari, golden eyes, long black hair braided back and large curling horns. Golden rings dangled from both ears and he looked… kind, in a way that felt very un-qunari and she blinked at the warm smile the blood covered oxman gifted her with. 

“You okay down there?”

She gave a weak thumbs-up. “Up there?” 

His smile grew. “Other than the giant green breach in the sky and the fact that the fate of the world rests on my shoulders I can’t complain.” 

_“Herald.”_ Cassandra sounded exasperated. 

Dorian, meanwhile, had wandered off to study her bike. “What a curious contraption.” Aleksanteri sincerely hoped he didn’t make any attempt to peer into her bag. She wasn’t sure cocaine was supposed to be introduced to the world of Thedas. “I have never seen such a thing like this.” He’d found the bell and flinched back at the sound it made. 

She valiantly smothered a laugh with a cough. 

“A friend made it for me.” She lied, waltzing towards him to inconspicuously grab her bag. “She said to me, ‘Aleksanteri, you move too slow, like a slug’.” 

“So your name is Aleksanteri?” Iron Bull ambled towards them. “Quite the mouthful.”

“Most just call me Alek.” Untrue, she didn’t think anyone had ever called her Alek, it had always been Al or Ale when someone caught her downing too much… Ale. 

Iron Bull studied her in consideration, his eyes lingering on the grinning face of Harley Quinn and the bedroom eyes of Poison Ivy. 

She could practically hear his spymind working overtime. 

“Thank you for not letting the dragon kill me.” She said, turning abruptly to the Herald. “I thought I was dragon meat there for a second.”

“That’s what we do.” He said easily. “Name’s Kaaras Adaar.” He hitched a thumb towards Dorian. “That nosey mage is Dorian Pavus, this gallant lady Cassandra Pentaghast and the one you hitched a ride on is no other than the Iron Bull. We’re from the Inquisition.”

“What he’s not saying is that he practically _is_ the Inquisition.” Dorian said smoothly. “Herald of Andraste, Leader of the Inquisition, in the flesh.” 

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “What are you doing out here on your own?” She demanded.

“Adventuring.” Alek answered immediately. “On my bike.” 

“I would say you’re doing mighty fine on your own but I saw you puke up water not three hours ago.” Iron Bull grinned. 

“I was robbed.” Alek lied, unperturbed. “My food, water skin and money all stolen- hey,” she narrowed her eyes at him, “you didn’t think of offering some help when you saw me puking up my guts?”

The qunari shrugged. “We were having a break,” he answered, grin widening as her gaze darkened. 

“You’re welcome to come along back to camp.” Kaaras stepped in, ignoring the resigned _‘Herald’_ from Cassandra. 

Rationally she knew, BAD IDEA. But on the other hand…

Her stomach grumbled loudly and she was reminded of the fact that she hadn’t eaten in five days. “If-If you don’t mind terribly.” She smiled sheepishly. 

-

“I would love to know the name of the friend of yours who made this contraption, bike, you called it?” Dorian pinched the wheels and touched the chain as Alek very carefully spooned some soup into her mouth. 

“She is very dead.” Leah, from whom she’d stolen the bike from, was, in fact, very dead. 

“A great loss.” Dorian frowned and retreated back to sit down beside her by the fire. Alek suspected he itched to take her bike apart and learn everything he could about it.

In the silence she could hear Cassandra scolding the Herald for being so careless to invite strangers along. From what little she’d played of the game it seemed quite in character for the Inquisitor to sort of pick up companions randomly. Kaaras, for his part, looked sheepish in the face of the Seeker’s wrath.

“Those are some interesting tattoos.” Iron Bull rumbled, sitting down with soup and bread. “Never seen anything quite like them. More friends involved?” There was more weight to the question than Alek liked. 

“No.” She swallowed, willing her body to keep the broth down. “I just paid for them.” Unbidden her hand rose to the letters on her face.

“You can share a tent with Cassandra for the night.” Kaaras said when he returned. Cassandra didn’t look very pleased by that and her eyes held a warning when they landed on Alek.

Despite Cassandras clear displeasure at having a stranger in their midst, especially someone like her, the woman handed her a tunic to borrow and Alek pulled it on gratefully. It was long sleeved and warm and she sighed in pleasure as she crawled into the sleeping bag she’d been allowed to borrow.

.

She woke with a swallowed cry, panting, a hand on her shoulder and a voice in her ear. For a moment she couldn’t make sense of the world but then Cassandra’s furrowed eyes slowly came into view and she scrambled into a sitting position.

“I-I’m sorry.” She choked out, desperately fighting down a whimper.

“Go back to sleep.” The warrior woman said simply, rolling over to give her privacy.

Alek willed her heart to slow and memories to fade.

-

They met up with Inquisition soldiers the next day and Alek found herself seated behind Dorian on a horse. She had never even seen a horse in her life and now she was sitting on one, clinging to Dorian for dear life as her rump rose and fell with its movements. 

“W-why couldn’t I stay on my bike?” She demanded, squeezing Dorian and wishing feverishly for the day to end.

“Because we’ll be passing through a swamp, my dear. And that contraption of yours would hardly been any good there.” Dorian said with clear amusement. The Altus looked perfectly comfortable despite her clinging to his waist like an octopus. Alek felt a stab of envy.

“You have to raise them pretty hips of yours with the movement of the beast,” Iron Bull sided up beside them. “Like you’re fucking it.”

“That is not how you ride a horse, Iron Bull.” Kaaras exclaimed at the same time Cassandra made a disgusted noise. Iron Bull merely grinned.

Dorian did attempt to teach her the basics and Alek did try to mirror his movement, but it was hard, and by the time Skyhold came into view a week later, her thighs ached so fiercely that Kaaras had to lift her from the horse that had become her object of her spite. “Never again.” She swore as the sympathetic Herald patted her on her shoulder. 

Before he left he promised to send someone to show her a room, “just stay with Iron Bull for now and someone will come along,” before ambling away with Cassandra after Dorian who had already left to take a long bath.

She was too tired to think too closely on why she’d been stuck to Iron Bull and was merely thankful to stumble along to the tavern and collapse with a groan on a proper, _unmoving,_ surface. 

“I told you to fuck the horse.” Iron Bull said helpfully, sliding a tank of ale and a bowl of meat and potatoes and half a loaf of bread.

A laughter Alek would have recognised anywhere broke from her left and she turned wide-eyed to a grinning Varric Tethras in the flesh. “I don’t know what they teach you under that qun of yours but that is most certainly _no_ t how you ride a horse, Tiny.” Varric watched her with intelligent eyes and Alek smothered the urge to fix her hair.

“That is some fine chest hair,” her tired mind conjured as a greeting. 

“Ah, it is – isn’t it.” Varric grinned at her. “This is some unusually perceptive company you’re keeping here.”

Alek missed the look exchanged above her head and the way Varric’s eyes narrowed before relaxing. 

“Aleksanteri’s the name.” She offered, spooning some meat into her mouth and chewing hungrily. She drowned the mug of ale and closed her eyes as she slowly relaxed into her seat. 

“Varric Tethras at your service.” He bowed theatrically, while waving another mug of ale for her. 

Alek downed half before spooning more food into her mouth. She blinked tiredly. 

“So where are you from?” Varric made himself comfortable on the bench. 

A distant part of her thought that all that was missing was Leliana, but that quickly faded as tiredness overcame her. 

“Detroit.” She mumbled out. “’s in the west.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of any… Detroit.” Varric pronounced the word carefully. “Good place?” 

“Bloody awful.” Alek drowned more ale and before she could blink there was another one before her. “I don’t recommend it.” 

Varric hummed. “So how did you end up here in Skyhold?”

Alek furrowed her eyebrows. “I don’t know.” She pouted. “Chance?” The words slurred oddly in her mouth. “I died and then I didn’t die and then I was there and everything was gone.” She thought of Anthony in her dreams and swallowed down her panic. “I didn’t mean to be here.” She didn’t mean to be anywhere. 

Careening out into traffic… it hadn’t horrified her as much as come as a relief. 

Iron Bull and Varric were talking beside her and she did try to answer the questions but eventually she blinked through the cotton in her mind and tipped sluggishly. The qunari caught her before she could slip off the bench. “Easy there.” He murmured. He said something more but Alek was already deep asleep.

-

_“Kitten.” Anthony stroked her cheek gently. “You know I don’t like it when you run.”_

She was twelve, staring up at the man who’d decided she belonged to him. “I’m sorry.” She said, knowing it was useless before even opening her mouth.

Anthony shook his head in disappointment. “I really thought I could trust you this time.” He said mournfully. “You know how I hate to punish you.”

“I’m sorry, Master.” She swallowed. 

The whip uncoiled with easy precision. “I only do it for your own good, you know that right?”

“Yes, Master.”

His grin was fiendish with pleasure as she turned and removed her clothes, baring her ruined back to his hungry gaze.

-

“I need to stop drinking.” Alek blinked at the ceiling, promptly rolled over and fell back to sleep.

-

Skyhold was… strange. She’d sort of expected Haven but she knew it changed later in the game from Francis chatter so wasn’t terribly thrown by it.

She hadn’t seen the Herald since their arrival but she could see Cassandra each morning by the recruits and she’d bypassed the tavern enough to know where Iron Bull spent most of his time with his chargers when he wasn’t training them. 

She’d quickly been put to work and given a tent to sleep in with two other girls who kept away from her as if she was something diseased. 

In fact, other than Iron Bull and his chargers, most seemed to regard her with great caution and outright distrust. 

It hadn’t hit her on her journey to Skyhold because she’d been treated kindly by both Kaaras and Dorian. But her tattoos and her short blood red hair and her accent made people look twice. At least she’d been allowed to keep the tunic Cassandra borrowed her and a pair of leather pants and boots courtesy of Varric who’d taken pity on her. But she still stood out like a sore thumb and her 21st century behaviour was doing her no favours. 

And, alright, maybe decking the soldier hadn’t been the best way to blend in but really, the prejudice against mages were _ridiculous._

And maaaybe calling that Templar at the tavern out on his sexist behaviour hadn’t exactly made an impression with the soldiers. 

But for the first time in her life she was free from Anthony and she’d be damned if she let anyone walk right over here. 

Even if… even if it left her a bit lonely. It wasn’t like it was anything new.

She stroked her thumb over Morrigan and Leliana, past the characters from Origins and Dragon Age II to Josephine and Sera all down by her foot. 

She didn’t think Anders by her knee would earn her any favours but she stroked an admiring finger down Isabela’s sultry grin and intelligent eyes. 

_“They don’t know me. I know me.”_

She blew air through her nose and straightened. She wondered if she could get a piercing like Isabela, only in silver. She already had a row of hoops in her left ear, it’d match. 

She amused herself by such daydreams throughout the days, helping wherever she could in lack of any constructive way to dealing with her life. She didn’t have any background, life, family or friends in this world and the only people she actively talked with was a qunari spy and a dwarven author when she happened across him. 

And even those two she was talking less and less with, disappearing into her head and daydreams as she’d done when Anthony had his bad days and kept her locked up. 

Bad habits, Leah had said when she’d stopped by to patch her up and found her staring at the wall. 

So it came as a bit of a surprise when four months after her arrival to Skyhold Kaaras shouted her name across the courtyard and jogged up to her, clearly pleased to see her. He’d been chatting with Leliana who was left blinking in surprise on the steps of Skyhold. 

“Kaaras.” She had to clear her throat, shaking her head to clear away muddled thoughts of Rivendell, elves and evil rings. “How are you?”

“I could ask you the same.” He frowned at the dark bags under her eyes “I’m glad you decided to stay.”

She shrugged a bit helplessly. “Don’t really have anything else going on. And, you know, fighting an evil entity trying to take over the world feels like a mighty cause as any. Even if I’m not… you know… doing any real fighting.” She scratched the tip of her ear. 

“Inquisitor.” Leliana sidled up beside Kaaras, all pleasant and inquisitive eyes. Alek wasn’t fooled for a second. “You left so suddenly.”

Alek swallowed deeply at the sight of one of her heroes, the woman she’d romanced on her first playthrough of Dragon Age Origins home at Francis three years ago. 

“Alek, this is Leliana – one of my advisors. Leliana, this is Aleksanteri.” 

“Ah, the woman with the _bike,_ ” the beautiful Orlesian drawl sent a shiver down her spine,“it is a pleasure to meet you.” Her bike, parked carefully outside her tent, was a frequent topic of gossip.

“Just call me Alek,” she waved a hand in greeting.

“What are you doing out here?” Kaaras asked curiously. 

She held up the pile of clothes in her arms. “Helping the Inquisition?” 

She wasn’t entirely sure what happened after that. One moment she was chatting with Kaaras and holding a pile of clothes and the next she was standing before Josephine Montilyet with Kaaras gesturing enthusiastically towards her and chatting a mile a minute. Leliana hoovered in the doorway beside her as she blinked owlishly at the happenings, arms empty. 

“He must have taken a real liking to you,” Leliana murmured softly, her eyes lingering on the inked frown of Leia and the gun in her hands. 

“I haven’t seen him in four months. I didn’t think he remembered me,” she said a bit shellshocked. 

Kaaras clapped her on her shoulder and grinned at her. “I leave you in Josie’s capable hands. Let’s have dinner down at the tavern later.” And then he and Leliana was gone, the redhead no doubt about to squeeze Kaaras for any information regarding her. 

“Lady Aleksanteri.” Josephine beckoned her towards the desk. “My name is Josephine Montilyet, ambassador of the Inquisition.” Her Antivan accent rolled pleasantly from her tongue. “Kaaras said you were looking for some other duties around Skyhold.” They both knew that wasn’t exactly the case but Aleksanteri nodded anyhow. 

“Anywhere I can be of more help, really.” She looked around herself, admiring the plush red sofa, the piles of documents carefully sorted and the elegant feather sticking up from a stop of ink. Josephine’s fine golden clothes was the most beautiful thing she had seen since she arrived to Thedas and she itched to smooth her hands down the soft fabric and those beautiful _curves…_

She forcefully tore her mind back to the presence, feeling vaguely disgusted by herself for so blatantly ogling the other woman. 

Josephine asked a lot of questions and Alek scrambled her brain to answer them. She’d become something of a Jack of All Trades under Anthony, and while not everything could be applied to Thedas there was plenty that could. 

Like the fact that she could read and write in common-tongue (English), Orlesian (French) and Antivan (Spanish). She also spoke fluent Russian which she was sort of half-connecting to Cassandras Nevarran roots but decided to keep to herself as she wasn’t completely sure. She was quick and already had most of Skyhold mapped out from delivering laundry absolutely everywhere. 

Josephine tapped the table thoughtfully, studying her. 

Alek wandered what she saw, if she looked as strange to the Antivan woman as the rest of Skyhold.

She’d been a bit taken by Josephine from the very first scene in Inquisition where her accent had practically made her melt against the couch. She’d been well on her way to romancing Josephine before Francis was killed and shit went a good way south for a while. 

She wasn’t sure if it was a relief to not have finished the game or unnerving knowing that everything always got worse in the Dragon Age games. She was just waiting, having heard rumours of at least one character being some traitor of sort, and kept her ear out for gossip. 

But Leliana’s agents were good and she didn’t get nearly enough information filtered from the top.

Which…

Which was good... if an inconvenience to her. 

-

“Well, this is a surprise.” Alek wasn’t exactly sure who was more surprised, Dorian or her. The Altus mage was looking her up and down slowly after Josephine had dropped her off. “To think the stranger from the plains would be fluent in Orlesian and Antivan. You don’t have any qunlat hidden away in that brain of yours? Some Tevene?”

_“Vishante Kaffas?”_

Dorian’s laughter was delighted.


	2. Embrace The Cocaine High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't do drugs, kids.

Aleksanteri didn’t have dinner with Kaaras that night, the Herald of Andraste had been sent on a mission after a meeting in the war room. Alek had overheard it between Dorian and Kaaras when the later wandered by below to pick up Solas, the easy banter between the two mages tearing her interest from the pile of books and parchments Dorian had left her by.

She wasn’t sure what to feel and buried her attention back to the Antivan letter Dorian had left her to translate. 

The letters were mostly commissions, lords and ladies seeking attention and offering favours for a foot in with the Inquisition. A curious few were banter and she lingered on a love letter with slight disbelief at the things the husband and wife promised the Inquisitor for a chance to bed the man. 

Alek reasoned that these were letters that either Leliana or Josephine had read through and deeming them to be unimportant or at the unnecessary to take up the time of the Nightingale and Ambassador themselves, had them translated to be delegated to less important people. 

She worked carefully, the quill was a bit of a trial and error, but once she got the text flowing she was soon engrossed and blinked when Dorian bid her goodnight to go eat by the tavern. He had invited her along but Alek made her excuse and though the Altus brow furrowed he made no move to force her to come along. 

As she slept very little as it was she wasn’t overly disturbed when she was awoken early the next morning to run some errands around the castle before she returned to the library. Dorian greeted her after the communal breakfast served in the great hall and got to task. 

As a member of the Inquisitors Inner Circle Dorian wasn’t restricted to the library. Some days he didn’t come to the library at all and all the company she had in her corner was the occasional messenger stopping by to pick up or dispose of more letters for her to translate. Often, they were the spies of Nightingale herself – recognisable by the rope around their neck – and Alek was reluctant to engage them in conversation. 

“Dorian?” she peered around a bookcase. “Dooooorian?” She looked around for any trace of the tevinter and frowned when she realized she was alone. A letter had been left on her desk and half-way through its translation she’d realized that it was something _way_ above her and frozen in discomfort. 

No Dorian meant that…

Alek swallowed. 

She couldn’t very well bring it with her and go look for Dorian, nor could she leave it lying around in the library where anyone could find it. 

She scratched the inside of her left wrist, anxiousness rising inside of her as she slowly climbed the stairs towards the sound of birds and hushed steps. One of Leliana’s spies glided past her just as she reached the top and Alek searched the shadows for a flash of purple.

“Lady Aleksanteri,” for someone wearing thick armoured boots Leliana made next to no sound as she placed down what she been reading and sauntered towards her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” The Orlesian drawl made her throat dry and she fumbled for the letter, shoving it forward. 

“This – it – it arrived on my desk. I think… it wasn’t meant for me – it’s not what I usually translate, I mean,” Alek fumbled with the words and shut her mouth with a click as Leliana carefully took the parchment from her hands. “I brought it as soon as I realised,” she added as the spymaster carefully considered the letter written in Antivan.

Alek wasn’t sure what made her so anxious in the face of the Orlesian. She’d watched Leliana grown from the bard abandoned by her teacher and lover to a chantry sister to finally become a headstrong woman standing side-by-side with the Hero of Ferelden and the team of friends and warriors they’d gathered throughout the journey. The brief glimpse of her in Dragon Age II and then the bitter woman that greeted her character in Inquisition had left her silent for days.

Francis had laughed at her, wiping blood from his nose fruitlessly as he watched her study the woman she had romanced. _”Shit happens.”_ he’d said. They were both intimately familiar with the ways of fate but the path of the fictional woman she’d admired had disturbed her in a way she couldn’t explain. It had been mere days later she began inking her leg and Leliana’s face had been the first.

But now she was real, standing before her, brow smooth as she scanned the parchment carefully and Alek didn’t know what to do with herself. She knew how dangerous this Leliana was, cautious bordering of paranoid, clever and capable of going great lengths to get at the one who murdered her beloved Justinia. She held no ignorance for just what the work of a Spymaster entailed, information was key and Alek knew intimately what that sometimes demanded, Anthony had made sure of it. 

A part of her was so very afraid, another craved Leliana’s approval. The emotions warred and made her cautious of herself.

“You did well to bring this to me,” Alek thought she might have seen a flicker of approval in appraising eyes and it made her ears warm. 

-

Some seven months after her arrival in Thedas, and nearing her birthday, Alek happened upon Sera for the first time – or rather, the other happened upon her.

She’d fallen asleep in the library, curled up under her desk to avoid the rain falling down outside and the miserable cold of the tent as she sniffled, brow warm from fever and throat aching. It had been late when she smuggled the oversized large cloak she’d had made for the small amount of coin she earned for her work. It was thick and warm, if scratchy, and it was _hers._

Alek’s dreams had been restless, worsened by the cold, and the sound of boots landing on her desk had torn her straight from her dreams with a cry. 

Her head smacked upwards with enough force that she immediately felt something wet running down her face and something above her yelped in shock and felt with a thud. Alek scrambled out, wiping blood from her eyes, wide from dreams and sickness and shock. 

“Wat the tits ya doing down ‘here?” Sera demanded immediately upon seeing her, her accent taking a good few moments for her brain to translate.

Shaggy hair that looked suspiciously like the elf had cut it with a knife, long ears and a gymnasts body. Alek shook her head, wiping at the blood in annoyance; head wounds always bled dramatically. 

“Sleeping,” she deadpanned. “What the hell are you doing here?” She demanded, sniffling snottily. 

“Ew, you’re sick.” Sera wrinkled her nose. “Stay there and don’t you _dare_ breathe at me.” The elf took a demonstrative step back. “Bleeding all over too.” She grumbled. “Don’t you have any manners?” She crossed her arms and glared at Alek accusingly.

Aleksanteri stared blankly back. 

Sera waved her hand. “ _Hello,_ anyone in there? You should probably do something about all that blood, ya know.” 

Alek swore and stumbled back to her desk, finding a parchment and sticking it to her forehead before turning back flatly. “Why are you sneaking around here in the middle of the night?” She asked as Sera stared, eyes widening.

The elf burst into manic laughter as Alek removed her hand, leaving the parchment sticking from her head. “Look at you!” Sera giggled, practically falling over herself. “You look like a cock!”

Alek had no idea how she looked like a cock and absolutely no interest in finding out.

“Ow, ow, wait a mo’!” Sera stumbled towards her when Alek hunkered down to crawl back and go to sleep. “You should help me, yeah?”

“ _Why_ should I help you” Alek mumbled, ready to tip over and go right to sleep. “I’m the one bleeding here,” she coughed, chest rattling. 

“Don’t think about the ifs and butts,” Sera caught her wrist and pulled her up firmly, surprising Alek with her strength. “Now, point me mage’s favourite book, yeah? And I’ll make it worth every second of your time…”

-

Alek awoke sprawled on her desk face down with a parchment sticking from her head and eyes crusted to the sight of a honey covered Dorian, eyes watering as he sneezed and swore and cursed the name of the blonde giggling elf kicking her legs from the top of a shelf. 

Alek rubbed her eyes stretching out as Dorian set off, swearing violently in tevene. She heard the words, “ _Kaffas!_ What the blasts did you put in it!?” before he vanished out of earshot. 

Sera bounced after him, shouting encouragements that echoed off the walls. 

She hoped Dorian never found out that she’d assisted the elf to get her to leave her alone. A grouchy, feverish Aleksanteri had not appreciated the midnight company and she still felt off. 

She’d been banned from doing her usual helping in the morning after the lead cook sent her scuttling the day before with a warning not to come back before her forehead had cooled. Her brain felt like mush and the blood from the night had crusted from her forehead down her face. 

She felt like a wreck and probably looked like one. 

Realizing that a bath was in order she trudged down and out after scratching a note to Dorian to let him know where she’d vanished to. She doubted he’d be back before her but one could never be too cautious.

Skyhold had a communal bath that was free for all of the Inquisition members, warmed by runes carved carefully along the edges. 

Naturally, Alek had absolutely no interest in bathing there. 

The solution had come from Varric who had looked curiously at her when she asked if there was a private place one could request a bath. But he was a man who was used to eccentrics and had probably, rightfully assumed, she hadn’t wanted people to stare. 

Handing over the coins to Flissa she ambled her way to her regular room, a bundle of clean clothes under her arm. It didn’t take long before someone arrived with buckets of water as Alek unpacked the bar of lavender soap she’d bought from one of the merchants. She hummed to herself, locking the door and stripping with relish.

She’d been used to wandering around in oversized shirts and boxer shorts at home – the cold of Skyhold and her tattoos made the covers necessary but still made her feel confined. 

Naked, she sunk into the water with a groan, the warmth soothing her aching lungs and clearing her nose.

She sniffled experimentally. 

_”Sad.”_ a voice whispered in her ear. _”A heart aching with loss and loneliness, crying out, hoping, begging, can someone help me?”_

Alek felt her heart turn to ice in her chest.

“You asked for help but nobody came.” The voice continued, confused. “And then you stopped asking. Why did you stop? I can help you. I _want to help you.”_ The voice pleaded.

Somewhere amidst the panic bubbling and frothing like a violent storm Alek heard the mournful words; _I made it worse_

-

She’s sitting by the bathtub when she comes to, arms scratched raw but scabbed shut, and she paws sluggishly at her face. 

She knows the aftermath of an attack when she feels it but her brain won’t bring forth any explanations for it. 

She frowns, naked and shivering on the floor, and it takes a long while before she dares to lower herself back into the water to finish her bath. 

-

“Now you’re just being obstinate,” Melik put his hand on his hips and scowled at her. As the man in charge of making sure everything was in the right place and working, Alek found herself under his command in the morning hours. 

At first, she hadn’t minded – she was used to the way Anthony snapped out a command and expected it to be done to perfection. She hadn’t exactly ranked high under Anthony, more akin to a violent pet than a ranking member, if she was honest with herself. 

But after a while… it started to bother her. 

Melik showed no signs of letting up on her, scowling and crossing his arms at the slightest mistake. Even when there wasn’t anything visibly wrong he’d smirk and gossip to the others workers about how bad she was at it and they’d giggle and gossip and throw her looks and it was slowly gnawing on her nerves. 

She wiped a shaking hand down her thigh, clenching her fist to keep herself from doing something bad. “What exactly,” she said slowly, “isn’t up to your standards,” _this time_ she thought.

“I wouldn’t expect a _shem_ like you to understand,” Melik snarked nastily, elbowing past her to straighten out imaginary creases. “Go do whatever you do, I don’t know what Lady Josephine was thinking when she said to give you other tasks…” Alek’s ears burned. 

Dorian wasn’t there when she arrived and she sighed as she slouched in her chair and set to translate. Back aching, wrist trembling from anger she struggled through the day that crawled forward agonisingly slowly. 

Hours later she stumbled back to the tent, finding it empty, and she collapsed tiredly upon her bedroll. She edged her boots off, placing them carefully in the corner, and changed from her working shirt into the tunic she’d been given by Cassandra all those months back. It was in the midst of winter and it was colder than usual in Skyhold and she shivered despite the thick cloak, swiping tiredly at her eyes. 

“What am I doing here?” Alek drew her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees as she tucked herself tight under the cloak and drew the ends in to prevent cold air from reaching her. She felt useless – at least under Anthony what she’d done had _meant_ something. 

Here she was a glorified maid, straightening beds and carrying laundry. Translating whining words from greedy lords and ladies with too much money to throw around.

She chewed angrily on the scarred skin on her left wrist where the ink had faded and twisted under the aggression of her teeth. She bit until she tasted blood, worrying the skin as the roar in her ears slowly faded, leaving her empty. 

Her eyes strayed to her bag, the festivities in the tavern like a far off echo in her back of her mind as she reached trembling fingers towards it. 

She could almost hear Anthony’s laughter, feel his hands in her hair, grip unyielding as she slowly lined up the white powder on her pocket mirror, rolling a now-useless dollar bill from her wallet carefully.

The coke hit her like an old friend, pupils dilating as euphoria filled her blood stream and a smirk twisted her lips. She laughed, the cold like a distant dream as she threw the cloak of her shoulders and put her boots back on. She reached across the tent, riffling through the two bags until she found a red tunic and pulled it on. She stuffed a package of cigarettes down her pocket, a lighter and grinned as she prowled towards the tavern while rolling her sleeves up.

She was at the top of the world.

Voices like dull roars, the ale running down her throat like water, coins disappearing from her pockets like sand running between her fingers. 

The taste of wetness on her tongue, muscular thighs on each side of her head and a hand forcefully holding her down. Moans and slurping noises intermixing in the room as she buried her own hand between her legs, furiously rubbing her clit and whining as she buried her tongue deeper to stroke quivering walls of the Templar with enthusiasm.

“Such a _good girl,_ ” the raspy praise of the older woman made her whimper and clench down hard, wetness drenching her working fingers.

-

She woke up to a rough hand on her breast and a muscular body spooning her back and blinked tiredly, fighting sluggishly against the after effects of the coke. She was still wearing her pants but her underwear was sticky with her own come and made her grimace. The woman behind her was in the opposite state, still wearing her undershirt with her legs completely bare.

Alek ran a hand down them in admiration, the thick muscles clenching beneath her touch. 

“’Morning, little Mouse,” a voice thick with sleep murmured in her ear, a hand dipping down the front of her pants and curling expertly between her legs. Alek whimpered, pressing against the hand and the woman laughed softly, nibbling gently on her neck. “You were such a good girl for me last night,” she said huskily, “and good girls get rewarded.” Clever fingers curled, seeking out that bundle of nerves that made her gasp and whine.

She came with a shudder and allowed herself to be turned, sucking obediently at the fingers pressing against her mouth, tasting herself with a moan. The Templar beneath her groaned. “Bloody hell.” The fingers vanished, replaced by a hungry mouth and Alek pressed into it as her hand snuck downwards towards the other’s soaked folds. 

A thigh nudged between her legs, making her breath hitch.

The loving was slow but firm and left her warm and content as she collapsed down on the woman’s chest with a content sigh. A firm hand tucked strands of red from her face and kissed the corner of her mouth.

The Templar was a firm woman with long braided blonde tresses and . Alek admired the sharp lines and pointy nose before nuzzling closer. Her body rumbled with the other’s laugh.

“I have to get going,” The Templar murmured softly. “And I do believe you have things to get to as well.” Alek whined in protest as she found herself lifted and deposited on the covers. She rubbed crust from her eyes and yawned tiredly. Her gaze lingered on the other’s firm backside and muscled back as she started pulling her clothes back on.

“I had a great night,” the Templar said, adjusting her breastplate. 

Alek’s ears warmed. “Me too,” she admitted.

She leaned forward and pressed her mouth to her cheek. “The name’s Ocea, don’t be a stranger.” She drew back, winking, and left with her armour clanking. 

Alek drew her knees to her chest, smiling against her knees. The dark thoughts from the day before blown away with the euphoria of the coke and the endorphins from multiple orgasms. The aftereffects of the coke struggled to draw her down but Alek struggled resolutely against it. 

Ocea had respected her wish to keep her pants on, hadn’t questioned her or wiggled to get them off. Much of the night was a blur and her head pounded but she was too content to let it get at her. 

Ocea had been the first person who had willingly interacted with her in months, buying her mead and keeping up proper, non-work-related topics. She was clever and warm and tactical and Alek had practically melted under her attention. 

She flopped back against the bed, grinning at the ceiling.

-

Melik was not-impressed by her late arrival and Alek had to spend a good ten minutes tuning him out while the other berated her. Her mind drifted to warm flesh and the tips of her ears warmed at the memory. 

“If I’m not wrong, and I seldom am, you got laid last night,” Dorian drawled as she stumbled into the library, stuffing the last of her bread into her mouth.

“What of it?” She chewed and swallowed. “Jealous?” 

“As if,” the Tevinter sniffed. 

“I’m glad to see you’re not covered in honey anymore,” Alek added, stealing some empty rolls of parchments off Dorian’s desk, knowing the mage appreciated the small stroll to get new ones despite his grumbling. 

“That brat put itching powder in it,” Dorian rubbed his nose in memory. “If I ever figure out how she rigged the damn thing…”

Alek smiled nervously. 

Dorian was an incredible brilliant man. She didn’t always agree with the things he said but he was a man who strove to be better even faced with the constant hatred from fellow Inquisition members simply for being from Tevinter. She had overheard Francis swearing over what an asshole Dorian’s father was and knew he hadn’t had had an easy life even with his status. 

She wondered what haunted him during those quiet moment of contemplation when he stared silently down at his books without turning the pages.

Alek frowned and shook her head. 

It was getting harder and harder not to dwell on the fact that she was actually in a _game_. A game with characters she’d engaged in conversation. Characters she’d romanced, built friendships with, conquered arch demons and explored Deep Roads with, helped through hard times and challenged to become better. 

She wondered how Zevran was doing since his problems with the Antivan Crows in Dragon Age II. The brief glimpse of him on the Wounded Coast had her pressing her face against the television and practically blubbering and she hadn’t hesitated to have Isabela and her Hawke disappearing with him for some fun. 

Just like she’d dragged her Warden, Leliana and Zevran into a foursome with Isabela in the first game, giggling all the while.

She wondered if there was a way to sex the Inquisitor up with Zevran in this game. World. Thing.

She tried to imagine gentle Kaaras with the mischievous assassin and giggled into her hand. Zevran would have a _blast_. 

Dorian on the other hand… now that was someone that would face off with Zevran toe to toe. The witty assassin from Antiva and the snarky Altus from Tevinter. 

Varric could write books on that…

“…”

“Dorian!” The Altus jerked in shock as Alek slammed her hands on his desk leaning forward. “Are any of Varric’s books in here?” She demanded eagerly, nearly bouncing.

How often hadn’t she dreamt of reading _Hard in Hightown?_ _The Swords and Shield_ series? _The Tale of the Champion_ in the words of Varric Tethras _himself?_

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited,” Dorian mused, stroking his moustache. “Unfortunately this library only keeps his Tale of the Champion and it's pretty popular,” seeing her face fall the Tevinter rose and offered his arm to the startled redhead, “but don’t you fear, my dear. I know just who to talk to…”

-

Okay, when he said he had someone she should meet she thought he meant Varric. 

Like, she was at least ninety percent sure he meant Varric.

What they were doing before Cassandra Pentaghast completely eluded her.

“Dorian,” the Seeker sheeted the two swords she’d been handling, turning away from the dummy she’d been hacking at to peer at the Tevinter mage. “Please tell me the Herald-“

“Kaaras has not imported more nuggalopes,” Dorian reassured her.

The Seeker gave a sigh of relief and Alek wondered in the world a _nuggalope_ was.

She made a note to find out.

“I’m actually here with this one,” Alek might have protested to being shoved forward like a shy child hadn’t she found herself eye to eye with the inquisitive eyes of the Seeker. 

“I remember you,” Cassandra mused, her thick Nevarran accent washing over her like a soothing balm. She wondered if she could get the Seeker to speak in her native language – she was still itching to figure out if Nevarran was Thedas idea of Russian. “You are the woman from the plains with the strange contraption.” 

Alek thought she saw the woman’s eyes dip towards her tattoos and smiled a bit nervously. “Alek, yeah.” 

Cassandra dipped her head in acknowledgement.

“Well,” she demanded of Dorian, “what did you want of not to warn me?”

“You still have the first edition of Sword and Shields lying around?” Dorian practically _leered_. 

To Alek’s shock a flush crept up the normally stoic Seeker’s cheeks. “What about it?” She growled.

“Alek here was wondering if she could borrow it.” 

The steely eyes were back on her, studying her, and Alek subconsciously straightened her back. “You’ll take care of it?” The woman asked carefully. 

“As if it was my child,” Alek vowed. 

The older woman gave a sharp nod and gestured her along. Alek glanced back but Dorian merely waved and smiled so she turned and hurried to keep up with the Seeker’s firm gait.

The sheer presence of the Seeker was awe inspiring, very nearly stealing her breath away with the force of it. Cassandra Pentaghast, dragon hunter, the Seeker, unmovable in her sense of justice. She was everything Alek was not, strong, fierce, a believer of the good in the world.

Alek was weak, had done evil in the name of selfishness, had sacrificed her beliefs and dampened her guilt with alcohol and drugs. She’d done the choice over and over again, she couldn’t even excuse herself anymore.

The Seeker had her room in the forge and Alek nearly moaned at the warmth when she stepped inside. The chill from the winter air was swept away immediately, the heat crawling into her very bones as she followed the Seeker up the stairs. It was noticeable not as warm as they got up and Alek noticed runes carved into the bannister as they stepped into the room the Seeker had claimed as her own.

It was a practical room, in a sense, but Alek was surprised by the small knickknacks strewn around, her eyes lingering on a small glass beetle by the bedside table.

“Here you go,” the Seeker said a bit gruffly, pulling the book from a pile and handling it over.

Alek stroked the front of it carefully, practically drinking the fine print and beautiful drawing. The name Varric Tethras had been printed in fine letters as golden as his chest hair.

“Have you read it before?” The Seeker asked inquisitively as she led them back outside.

“No.” Alek admitted. “I haven’t read anything by him, really. I figured it was time to change it.” She looked up and smiled a bit shyly at having Cassandra’s full attention. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

The Seeker merely nodded. “How are you settling in?” 

Alek chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I was assigned to work in the library recently by Lady Montilyet.” She told the older woman. “It’s mostly translating letters from complaining nobles but I feel more useful doing this than running laundry,” she admitted. 

Cassandra glanced at her from the corner of her eyes. “How many languages do you speak?”

Alek couldn’t help herself. “шесть.”

The Seeker started visibly. _“Вы говори́те по-ру́сски?”_ The word she used was unfamiliar but Alek automatically substituted it to mean; “you speak Nevarran/Russian?” 

Considering she had котенок written on her cheek Alek had to assume the alphabet wasn’t the same. Likely, if Alek had to take a guess, it was probably written with Latin letters. That was… an odd relief.

“Among others,” she said in eng- _common,_ lip quirking. 

“It is not often I hear the language from my home country.” Cassandra mused. “How did you learn it?” 

“I grew up with it,” Alek settled for the truth. “It was my parents’ native language.” 

“You are Nevarran?” Cassandra came to a stop by the training dummy, turning to look at her fully, studying her.

Alek’s hair was dark red and her skin was pale beneath her tattoos. Though it was often roughened by sunburn, especially her cheeks. It had been worse when she worked outside, for a place as cold as Skyhold the sun always seemed to be shining – it was an oddity Alek tried not to dwell on.

To be honest, she hadn’t considered her background all that much considering there was no one to badger her about it. 

“By lineage, yes.” She found herself saying. “I grew up in Kirkwall but left it for Ferelden long before the mess.” She knew Kirkwall inside and out from Dragon Age II, it felt like a safe bet. She hoped it would give her background some credability, claiming to be from a place that existed.

She knew this world condemned Anders for what happened in Kirkwall, even his fellow Mages. Alek, on the other hand, had a bit of a hero-worship going on. Anders was the catalyst for breaking a system of systematic abuse. It was a long time coming, Alek thought, even the Circle she’d recruited Wynne from had made her stomach turn and it had been heralded as one of the better ones. She’d thoroughly disapproved right along Morrigan on that one. 

The death of Mother Elthina hadn't even made her wince.

Elthina had chosen to stand by and do nothing and through her inaction she’d supported the Templars abuse of the Mages that was so quickly escalating. The conversations with Anders, the man’s clear agony over the fate of his fellow Mages, the hinted rape, the oppression, the pain-

Alek would have done anything to have an Anders. 

“I have always had a knack for languages and I was lucky to pick up several more from acquaintances. I am glad they come in handy for the Inquisition.” Not completely true, the gossip and pleads from nobles were getting increasingly boring.

She missed video games and Netflix, the sort of mundane things to kill time with. She slept badly, awoke early to clean and folk and stir breakfast, left to translate for hours, ate dinner on her own in the tavern and then took a shot at some sleep.

Occasionally she’d daringly sit close to the Bull’s Chargers and listen to their warmth and camaraderie while she ate. 

What she wouldn’t do for a game of Pokémon with hours to kill on training the little colourful creatures to fierce warriors.

She realized guiltily she’d zoned out mid-conversation when she found Cassandra looking at her expectantly. “Of course,” she answered automatically, the word _Master_ almost slipping from her lips before she caught herself.

The Seeker looked pleased. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow at the tavern.” The woman gave her shoulder a firm pat before stalking off towards Cullen with her shield and sword. 

Aleksanteri’s mind blanked. _What?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Russian word Alek uses means six. She speaks Russian, English, French, Spanish, Swedish and a bit of German.
> 
> She can curse in a dozen more.


	3. Whisky Equals Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drinking responsibly is key.

Alek could feel the suspicious eyes of the guards following her long past the gates of Skyhold. She knew Leliana’s spies and Cullen’s soldiers were stationed around the large fortress, looking down from the high walls, and shivered. 

As the weeks passed she was missing the comfort of having her own room to close and lock. Living in a tent where anyone could barge in, and did since she lived with two others, was making her increasingly paranoid. Alek was self-aware enough to recognise the signs in herself since Francis habitually pointed them out with a leer. 

_”You’re twitching again,”_ he’d say, glancing at her over the back of the couch he habitually sprawled on, _”tone it down or shove you in with Eric’s rat.”_ said “rat” was Eric’s Chihuahua appropriately named Twitch since it jerked manically, brain spastic from the fumes that laced Eric’s apartment.

Francis loved making digs at the fact that Anthony would lovingly refer to her as _Pet._

The bike felt like an old friend under her sweaty palms as she rolled it forward determinedly. She housed no illusions she’d actually get away from the leery eyes but she wanted far enough that she could _pretend._

The slope was icy and slick and Alek felt the daring thrill of adrenaline coursing through her body. 

The gravel made the tired skid and she whooped loudly as the bike quickly picked up speed, sweeping past a gaping pair of merchants as she started to seriously paddle, her muscles burning from the familiar strain. 

“Why did I ever stop doing this!?” She laughed, driving straight through a thick murky pile of water that splashed high up her thighs. 

Her muscles burned, her lunges working to expand and circulate the oxygen pumping into her and she grinned manically as she skidded off course and into the forest, roots shaking the bike and making her jaw clench. She had to stand to force it forward and dug her feet to yank the entire bike up and over a particularly large root blocking the road. She dodged and weaved, soon swivelling back out on the road and laughing as she came to a skidding halt. 

Adrenaline pumped her heart and she panted the cool air, gulping to calm her breathing and wiping sweat from her forehead. 

Had she been at home she would have sprawled out on the cement, Leah laughing beside her.

She looked up at the sky, squinting against the sun. One of the first things she’d noticed about this world was that it had two moons, but only one sun so at least the day’s felt familiar. But the stars were unrecognisable to her, not that she’d ever been particularly good at her old world’s ones, but she’d been able to map out of the big dipper at least. 

She’d taken to calling the little moon Looney and the large moon Luna in honour of J.K. Rowling. She’d never even seen the last two movies or read the book and she hoped the small bespectacled hero actually got his revenge on Snape and Voldemort in the end. She hoped Harry bailed out of the magical world, bought his own island and lived in a happy threesome with Ron and Hermione for the rest of his lives.

The poor bugger certainly deserved it. 

She shook her head, realizing she’d zoned out and ruffled her sweaty hair, sticking her tongue out when she noticed the length. How the hell was she supposed to get a haircut without a hairdresser? 

Her mind drifted to Sera and her choppy locks and shivered. Yeah, no, she was not attacking her hair with a knife and the clunky scissors she’d seen wasn’t exactly hair friendly. Both Dorian and Josephine had pretty hair so she knew there had to be some way. 

She made a note to ask the mage when she got back to the library. 

Feeling the cold air creeping up her sweaty skin she straddled her bike again and set off in a lazy pace back to Skyhold. 

Melik was gonna kill her. 

-

Alek was aching by the time she stumbled into the library after the shortest bath in history of baths. She tried not to dwell on the precious coins wasted on dipping in and out of a quick scrub. Melik had been beyond furious and had made her wash the floors by hand until her wrists and back ached for arriving late.

_Worth it._

Cracking her back she groaned in sweet relief and looked around the library for her favourite Tevinter mage. 

“Doriaaaan, I need your help with something- oh.” She paused, staring between Dorian and the snarling Templar facing down the frowning mage. “Hey!” She forced herself between them, deliberately turning her back to the Templar and ignoring him completely. “Dorian, you wouldn’t _believe_ what a birthday I’ve had.” She heard an angry snarl behind her and ignored it in favour of focusing on the bewildered mage. “First I took my bike – you remember my bike – out of Skyhold, completely ignoring work mind you, and found the iciest, slickest, goddamn road I could find and- sir, you’re interrupting my conversation with my friend, would you please stop buzzing into my ear, can’t you see we’re busy?” She turned around, giving the Templar her best unimpressed look.

“You’re the one interrupting _us_ you rat.” The Templar snarled, trying to intimidate her with his size.

“Yeah, no, intelligent people know when they’re not wanted.” Alek waved her hand dismissively. “Why don’t you hurry back to your pretty leashed friends and do, I don’t know, whatever you hunks of metal are supposed to do.”

Dorian threw his arm over her chest and pulled her back into his, leering over her shoulder. 

Alek completely _blanked._

The warm chest of the mage, the soft rumble as he talked, cutting into the Templar with a silver tongue worthy of the Norse God Loki. The smell of soft oils and clean skin made her want to tilt her nose into the dark neck above her and breathe it in for _hours-_

“-you Alek.” She jerked guiltily out of her daydream when Dorian released her.

“I just saved him a proper tongue-bashing from you,” she joked. “Though you certainly didn’t spare your words chasing him off.” 

Dorian smiled, stroking his moustache. “I am certainly impressed by your quick thinking,” he demurred. “But what is this about a birthday I heard?” 

Alek’s ears went bright red. “It’s – just. You know.” She waved her hand. “Another year and all that.”

Dorian hummed unimpressed, throwing an arm over her shoulder and steering her towards the entrance to the library. “So, how old are you turning exactly?” He asked as Alek’s heart smattered against her ribcage. 

“Twenty,” she stammered out as they stepped down and into Solas rotunda.

“Solas, I’m heading out, I’ll be at the tavern if anyone needs me.” Solas looked up from his thick book, taking in the situation.

Alek had seen the fade mage several times, often stopping by to browse through the library and disappearing back down with a new pile to browse. She’d sometimes guiltily looked through the tomes the mage had borrowed but most of them were in a language she didn’t recognise, most likely elven. 

For a bald, slight man, there was something very intense about him. Alek hadn’t talked much with him in the game, busy exhausting chat options with Josephine and Cassandra and finding out anything and everything Varric would tell her about her old companions. 

Solas frowned. “You’re supposed to head out tomorrow,” he said disapprovingly. 

“Oh we’ll be fine,” Dorian assured. “Just send Kaaras in the right direction if he comes looking.” 

“You don’t have to do whatever it is you’re planning on doing.” Alek managed to fumble out before they actually stepped into the tavern. “I was just gonna buy some food and-“ _rub one out wasn’t technically conversation friendly_ , “read a good book,” she lied lamely. 

Dorian made a noise of disgust. “Now that just won’t do!” He banged the door open and Alek would have collapsed into Iron Bull’s lap when Dorian shoved her forward hadn’t Iron Bull reached out to catch her. 

“Thank you.” Her ears warmed. 

“Dorian.” Iron Bull rumbled, looking between them in interest. “I thought you’d moved into your palace of books permanently,” the large qunari teased. 

“I am just as surprised to see you out of your pile of mud,” Dorian drawled, clearly an inside joke from the war the Iron Bull threw his head back with a laugh. “I’m actually here because this one thought reading a book was the proper way to spend her twentieth birthday.” He reached out and actually pinched her ear.

“I was gonna get a pint of ale,” she grumbled a bit defensively. 

Dorian looked scandalized. “You hear that?” He demanded. “That’s what I have to work with.”

Iron Bull snorted. “Sit down,” he gestured for the empty seats beside him. “Krem de la Cremé got the Chargers cleaning up, they’ll be back soon.” 

Alek found a large pint of something that smelled suspiciously like whisky mixed with vodka before her. “What is this?” She sniffed it curiously. She’d drunk her fair share of curious things and whisky mixtures were a weakness of hers. 

“It’ll put some hair on your chest,” Iron Bull promised, leaning a heavy elbow on the table to peer at her with his one good eye. 

Alek shrugged and downed it. “Holy fu-“ her eyes widened. Iron Bull laughed, patting her back as she coughed. “Wow. Been some time since I had something like that.” She wiped her mouth, tilting her mug. “Got more where that came from?” She challenged. 

-

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!” Arms hooked, eyes meeting across the table as they pressed the mugs to each other lips, drinking greedily.

They slammed their mugs down to hoots, both remaining steady despite the scattering of mugs on the table. “You’re good.” Krem growled. “But this is my win.” 

“I-I don’t think so.” Alek made a grab for a new mug but Dorian grabbed hold of her and dragged her to his side. 

“And this one just shoves in, completely ignoring him, and his face – it goes soooo red.” Alek blinked up at the mage, muddily realizing that Dorian sounded drunk. She giggled, curling into his warmth as Dalish took up her place across from Krem, already rolling her sleeves up. 

“So that’s how the two of you became friends?” Alek squinted at Iron Bull. 

“I like your horns.” She blurted out, burping. “They’re pretty.”

Krem choked on his beer, spraying Dalish. “You hear that, Boss? You have pretty _horns_ ,” he yelped and had to dodge Dalish lunging for his throat. 

“You like my horns you say?” Iron Bull leaned closer to them both. “Well, I like your hair.” 

“I like your bike.” Dorian interrupted, hugging her closer. “I just want to tear it apart and learn all its secrets.” 

Alek squinted at him. “I take offense on be-behalf of my bike – it likes itself whole,” she declared. Dorian pouted at her until Alek had to look away with a grumble. “You might be able to try it though.” She offered gruffly.

“You hear that, Bull? You – you’re my witness,” Dorian patted her head and Alek curled closer, practically purring. 

Iron Bull snorted at the two of them. 

“I think the two of you have had enough,” he stole away their glasses.

Alek remember insisting to _ride the Bull_ and found herself sitting with a leg thrown over each thick shoulders, clinging to the pretty horns as Iron Bull hefted Dorian up princess style. The mage protested initially but Iron Bull ignored him and her giggling. 

“He’s like your pretty bride,” Alek giggled, looking down at Dorian’s face. “He’s so handsome.” 

“You fancy him?” 

Alek made a disgusting noise. “Too much male.” She confessed. “I like my pussies.” She paused. “Or ya know, sometimes they don’t have pussies but they aren’t, ya know, _male_.” She swung her legs.

“Oh?”

“Like, like, there’s these people who are born in male bodies but their souls are female,” she continued. “Or the other way around.”

“We call those Aqun-Athlok under the Qun.” Iron Bull told her as they stepped into Skyhold.

“Where I’m from the term is Transsexuality,” Alek hiccupped. “And some people don’t have any gender, or they’re all gender, and they all have names and it’s awesome.”

“Sounds like quite the place.” Iron Bull said softly.

“I miss Detroit.” She agreed sleepily.

The bed was soft and warm and it was a _bed_. A large warm form pressed against her back, enveloping her, and Alek mewled softly and curled into it. 

-

Had Alek been a cat she would have purred. Loudly. All fluffy cat rolled onto its back and purring like a steam machine. Instead she tilted her head, baring her throat as she shifted into the large fingers scratching her scalp like a professional, a soft rumble sounding somewhere above her.

“I can’t believe you slept in here,” Dorian was saying somewhere in the room.

“Someone had to keep an eye on the two of you,” the qunari rumbled back. “Make you sure didn’t get into some illicit drunken affair behind closed doors.”

Dorian gave Iron Bull his most unimpressed look. The Inner Circle had all heard the outcome of Kaaras following the mage along to meet his father and his sexuality had been outed quite spectacularly by a nosy blonde elf. 

He glanced down at the red haired girl who had been working alongside him for a while now. Stretched out, face slack and mouth open as she pressed into Iron Bull’s large hand, the picture of bliss. 

Despite spending so much time together the tattoos on her body didn’t look any less strange. The characters, all from a green skinned woman, to a strangely dressed men and women clutching strange clunky looking things like they were _weapons._ The art was also exquisitely made, clearly expensive and unlike anything Dorian had ever seen. The closest he could compare it to were the Dalishs vallaslin and they were well known to take _days_ of pain. 

To have covered her entire body…

She was strange, she didn’t fit in no matter how she tried. Dorian had been tasked to keep an eye on her by their resident Nightingale and it didn’t take much to realize something was weighing heavily on her shoulders. Leliana was suspecting foul play but the girl had made no move to reach out to anyone. Hadn’t even pocketed the falsely planted information amidst her regular work. 

Dorian didn’t want to admit he’d been relieved when she was still there the following day instead of stuck in a dungeon under Leliana’s tender care. As a Tevinter mage in Ferelden amidst suspicions from every direction it was hard not to feel some kind of kindship with the strange girl.

“She’s a good kid.” 

Iron Bull hummed, neither agreeing nor denying. He was watching Alek’s reactions to his touch curiously – the redhead had managed to roll her entire body into his lap, forehead pressed against his belly.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” the qunari advised, leaning back against the headboard and dragging the redhead with him. She looked impossibly small between his thick muscular thighs and if Dorian hadn’t overheard her last night he might have felt jealous. As it was, he felt only amusement.

“Don’t be too hard on her,” Dorian pointed a warning finger. “She’s my friend.”

He left, anxiety brewing.

Kaaras and Cassandra were already there, chatting beside their respective steeds. The great nuggalope the Inquisitor had claimed for himself snuffled the ground beside Cassandra’s dracolisk. The Seeker absolutely refused to ride the nuggalopes but since they were heading to the Hissing Wastes horses were out. Dorian wasn’t overly fond of the beasts either and like Cassandra he’d settled for one of the scaly beasts. 

Sera on the other hand…

“Whoa, easy there Pokey!” the blonde elf smacked the large head playfully. “Ptro, ptro.” 

He covered his mouth to cover a laugh with a cough. 

She zeroed on him like a hawk. “Dori-Dori! My swooning princess!” She waved broadly. “I saaaaw you,” she grinned, all teeth.

He resisted the urge to bury himself in the earth.

“I didn’t know you’d become friends with Aleksanteri,” Kaaras tapped his cheek. “Josephine must have placed her in the library after…” he paused, frowning. “I think I forgot something again.” He tilted his head, thinking. 

“She’s a right freak,” Sera giggled.

“Sera!” Cassandra snapped warningly. 

Three pair of eyes turned towards her. It was rare that Cassandra interrupted their banter and the Seeker must have realized her mistake because she flushed. “You shouldn’t talk that way about our allies.”

“You certainly didn’t mind us bashing those Templars last trip,” Kaaras pointed out. 

“Not to mention those clerics.” Dorian stroked his moustache. “She must have _really_ liked that book she borrowed,” he leered. 

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Cassandra muttered, flustered. “She’s been helping me responding to some letters, that’s all.” She said louder.

The skittish girl had been surprisingly helpful and they’d met up several evenings, grabbing food and some mead from the tavern and retreating to her quarters to sort through the pile of letters from her homeland that needed to be responded to. Ever since the Inquisition had closed the Breach she’d been getting letters by the daily, lords and ladies vying for her attention. Cassandra had mostly shoved them away, not wanting to bother the Inquisition with personal business. She had never been good with words and the layered promises of the Game put a foul taste in her mouth. 

Alek had been surprisingly accommodating, asking for nothing in return but a handful of coins to take her baths at the tavern. She was good company as well, quiet but occasionally sharing fun titbits from the letters or asking for clarification about something she came across. 

Once or twice they had even talked about Swords and Shields and Cassandra’s mouth twitched as she thought back on it.

“I want to fuck her,” Sera said crassly. “Want to see if her entire body is marked.” She swung her legs.

“Sera!” Dorian and Cassandra snapped in tandem. 

The blonde elf slapped her thigh, snorting with laughter.

“Ah.” Kaaras lifted a hand to his mouth, remembering. “I was supposed to have dinner with her.”

-

Alek blinked dreams of green from her eyes after awakening with a start. Yawning she twisted her body, curling deeper into the pleasant warmth surrounding her as a hand continued to stroke softly from her head down her ba-

She froze.

“So you’re awake,” Iron Bull’s familiar voice rumbled far too close. His large calloused hands smothering strands of red away from her face and tilting her face to look up at his.

She felt impossible small, like a child. It made her ill at ease since her childhood was something she preferred not to dwell on. 

She shifted cautiously but the other tightened his grip on her warningly and she stilled. 

“Dorian told me what you did for him yesterday, you know.” Iron Bull informed her, resuming to stroke her head. “Defending him against that Templar in the library.” He stroked over the sensitive shell of her ear and she shivered. “Very admirable,” he rumbled.

She met his eye, trying to gauge his mood, but the qunari’s visage was impossible to read. 

“Anyone would have done the same,” she said.

“You and I both know that isn’t true; Dorian is a Tevinter mage in Ferelden. There are very few who does not regard him with great suspicion or outright disgust.”

“It’s not right.” Alek whispered against his stomach. “It’s not fair.”

He stroked his thumb over her brow, across the scar that slated through the soft red strands. “Who are you, truly, Aleksanteri? I wonder this often. A girl born in Kirkwall but claiming to have spent most of her life in Detroit, a place she claims to exist in Ferelden but certainly is on no map. Marked by strange men and women with an intricacy that is unlike anything I have ever seen. Haunted by something in your past that leaves you trembling at the mercy of your mind.” He stroked her forehead. “Are you enemy or friend? Who do you serve? Why are you here?”

She opened her mouth but Iron Bull covered it. “I cannot trust your word.” He let out a long sigh. “Time will tell.” He promised. “For now… I wanted to say thank you. For what you did for Dorian.” He smirked down at her in amusement when she jerked her head to gape at him. “Don’t look so surprised, girlie. I happened to have a fondness for redheads.” He tugged at her dark red hair. “And lost tevinter mages.” He winked, or at least closed his eye with a wry grin. 

“I won’t tell him, I promise.” Alek swore.

“Good.” Iron Bull petted her head. “Would ruin the whole thing, after all.”

He leaned back, making it clear he had no intention of moving. Alek slowly, very slowly, with all the caution in her soul screaming, relaxed against him as he continued to stroke her head.

It felt heavenly, his heavy hand on her head and her back. She couldn’t stop herself from tensing up every time his hand reached half way down her back but Iron Bull never once strayed further and she let out a sigh as she pressed her head into his belly and closed her eyes.

Other than Ocea this was the closest she’d been to another human in this world. And the surprisingly soft hand of the qunari was so unlike the fuck under the influence of cocaine. Instead of the rush of endorphins and clever hands searching to bring her relief in return for the same, Iron Bull stroked down her back in thoughtful silence, demanding nothing in return. 

It felt absolutely alien.

Anthony had always taken her ruthlessly, leaving her aching and unfulfilled in her shame and humiliation. He’d had her kneel naked by his side during meetings, petting her head like mockingly a dog when she fulfilled his orders while leery eyes devoured her naked body.

In a way her tattoos had been a way to cover up and escape from that nakedness. Just like the drugs had been an escape from her mind and the emptiness inside of her as she fired her gun on the order of her tormentor.

But Iron Bull wasn’t Anthony. In Dragon Age Inquisition he had been her companion to stand by her side and face the threat of the Breach. He was funny and crass, calling her character “boss” and challenging her to get better, to take charge of the growing army beneath her.

She wondered if he’d done the same for Kaaras. Supporting him as he took the role of first Herald and then Inquisitor.

“Kaaras,” she found herself saying, “is a good man. I am… _happy_ … to serve him.” She furrowed her brow; the words felt strange in her mouth. 

“You say that as if you’ve served bad men.”

Alek didn’t answer him, but the silence was answer enough.


	4. Under The Wing of the Nightingale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smoking ain't yum, but it's cool.

”Serah Nightingale?” Alek peered around the large cages, pausing occasionally to peer closer at the beady intelligent eyes regarding her from behind bars. She remembers reading about some birds having the same intelligence as monkeys and had watched youtube clips about crows and ravens doing incredible things, like fishing up food from flasks and throwing away trash in trash bins. She remembers watching a youtube story about a raven adopting a small kitten and keeping it from fed and safe.

They weren’t her favourite animal, she’d always been partial to anything on four feet with fluff, but she liked them well enough. She inched a finger through a bar and watched with a smile as one of the birds rubbed its head against her finger, allowing her to stroke the top of its feathered head.

Slipping silently through the door Leliana paused to study the other redhead. She’d been caught in another argument with Cullen about the recruited mages and had to forcefully push back her frustration and replace it with a pleasant smile.

“Ah, you are here.” She enjoyed the way the younger jerked in surprise, cage rattling as she hurriedly pulled her finger back to the displeasure of Eightball who squawked and flapped her wings.

It had been several months since the younger joined the Inquisition and her hair had grown from a short cropped mess to chin-length, clearly bothering her by the minute frown that crossed her face as she hurriedly brushed it away from her face.

Managing such an extensive spy net as she did meant she had to relegate a lot of her tasks to her people. She’d taken note of her, especially after Kaaras showed interest in her, and had taken to occasionally watching her work in the library. Planting the false information had been a test and she’d been pleasantly surprised to see the girl immediately scrambling to find her.

It was hard not to be suspicious of someone who stood out like she did, especially with a name like Aleksanteri claiming to be from a place called Detroit. But Leliana knew better than to disregard someone simply because they were different. Different did not equal bad. Shale was a walking, talking evidence of just how much looks could deceive – she had become one of her closest friends during the blight. 

Leliana could admit to have become curious about the younger girl. She’d witnessed the confrontation between the Templar and the Tevinter mage and had been about to leave her perch to step in when Aleksanteri had done so quite spectacularly. It had only solidified the idea that had been lurking at the back of her mind.

“I’m sorry!” Aleksanteri blurted out. “I should have asked if it was alright.” 

Leliana waved her hand. “It is good for them to get some attention. They’re greedy little creatures,” she said fondly, watching the other from the corner of her eye.

Her eyes narrowed before she caught herself and smothered it out. Aleksanteri was careful to avoid direct eye contact for more than a brief moment, her posture non-threatening. Leliana could make out the carefully bunched muscles, cautious and unsure but determined to stay in place.

It was a posture she’d often see in slaves who knew that pain awaited them if they disobeyed or made their Masters angry. It was disconcerting to see someone doing it before her.

“Do you know what roll I serve in the Inquisition?” She asked, leaning back against the railing to appear less dominating. 

Green eyes flashed up to regard her and Leliana blinked at the intense colour – they lowered quickly however as the other thought over her words. “You’re its Spymaster. It’s Nightingale.” The younger redhead said cautiously. “You dispatch your agents and scouts to further the Inquisitions goal.”

“And just what goal is that?”

“Justice.”

Leliana raised a curious brow. “Justice?” She repeated, folding her arms. “Most would say peace.”

Aleksanteri shook her head, blood red strands brushing back and fro over her nose. “Justice for Mother Justinia.” She said, as Leliana’s fists bunched. “The system has grown corrupt, the Chantry can no longer be trusted, a life-time of systematic oppression of mages and elves are being challenged in the name of Justice.” Green eyes glimmered knowingly. “This war started with _Justice_ ,” and Leliana did not imagine the empathize on those words, “Justice will be its driving force.” 

“A curious answer,” she decided, tapping a finger against her arm as she mulled over the words. Everyone knew about the mage Anders but the spirit Justice was a carefully hidden secret not even mentioned in Master Tethras books about the Champion. 

Leliana did oh-so enjoy a puzzle. Especially such a cute one. 

_The cute one’s broke the prettiest._

“But I did not call you here to rationalize the Inquisition.” Leliana shoved away from the railing, sauntering over to her desk – smiling to herself at the cautious steps following along behind her. “How are you enjoying your work in the library?”

“It’s… good.” 

Leliana turned to look at the other over her shoulder, raising a disbelieving brow.

“I mean, it’s better than spending the day delivering laundry.” Aleksanteri folded her arms, tilting her head. 

“So if I told you I might have some other work for you…?” Leliana rolled a scroll between her hands as she turned to meet green eyes head-on with an internal smirk as the other’s tension loosened for curiosity. 

_Like a cat to cream,_ she thought in amusement.

“I’d say I’m interested.” 

Leliana beckoned her over with a crooked finger, reaching over and tucking stray strands of hair behind the younger’s reddening ears and pressing her close to her side. The soft smell of lavender, the small body struggling not to melt into her.

She leaned her chin on Aleksanteri’s shoulder as she bent deliberately over her to point at the scroll rolled out on the table. 

She’d have to thank the Iron Bull later, she decided as she deliberately brushed her knuckles against the other’s hand, enjoying the jerk and startled eyes, soft red creeping across her cheeks.

_”She’s ridiculously touch-starved, Red.” He’d said as he handed over his reports. “Whoever she is, whoever she serves, they left her in a right state.”_

-

Aleksanteri found herself officially assigned away from Melik and into the hands of the Nightingale herself who had her translating notes and running errands, occasionally sitting down beside her to teach her words and codes to keep an eye out for.

It was a startling change of work. 

She still spent time in the library with Dorian, looking for books and looking through notes, but she was on the move a lot more, often running notes between Leliana and Josephine. A shocking amount of time was spent beside Leliana, looking things up for the redhead, pouring over whatever the other put before her.

Leliana had even helped her cut her hair; carefully showing her how to keep the sides short with the help of a knife and how to trim her bangs. It had been strange, sitting still as the spymaster herself handled the knife, locks of red falling to the ground with careful strokes of silver.

She’d half-expected Leliana to bend her neck back Sweeney Todd style and dump her body in the kitchen to become pig food.

As that had yet to happened Alek found herself settling into something of a routine.

Dorian had bemoaned the fact that he was now alone in the library again – an exaggeration – but had seemed happy for her as he patted her shoulder and told her to do her best. Apparently his trip to the Hissing Wastes had been a good one because she’d absolutely spied red on his cheeks when he dodged her questions about it.

Cassandra was a busy woman – she was nearly always away with the Inquisitor – but Alek looked forward to the evenings she was called to help the other with her responses. It was a bit ridiculous, really, the amount of marriage proposals the Seeker received.

Especially considering how uncomfortable and annoyed the woman looked whenever Alek looked up to make _sure_ she didn’t want to meet Serah something-or-the-other and consider a future together?

Alek peered up from the letter she was reading to look at Cassandra who was smiling to herself as she re-read the second book of Swords and Shields. She smiled fondly. It was amusing how much the Seeker enjoyed the books considering her animosity with the author. Their fights were legendary in Skyhold and Alek had often paused during errands to watch their verbal spars in awe. 

Cassandra looked, dare-she-say-it, cute in soft pants and tunic, leaning against the headboard of her bed, clearly relaxed and she read through her favourite book. It was so different from her scowling visage and heavily armoured self during the days.

Alek felt enormously pleased that she was allowed to see this side of the Seeker.

A loud cry and a muffled snarl followed by laughter made them both look towards the half-open window, Cassandra already grabbing both sword and shield by the time Alek plastered herself to the glass to peer outside. “There appears to be some confrontation of sorts,” she informed the Seeker as she shoved her feet into her boots and followed the other’s hurried step downstairs. “At least nine gathered below, but it was dark and hard to see.” 

Cassandra slammed the door open and snarled wordlessly at the gathering of Templars and Mages – Alek wrinkled her nose, clearly alcohol was involved and neither side looked pleased. 

Two of the mages were holding a third one back and the Templars were leering and laughing at the trembling woman straining against her friend’s grips. 

“What’s going on here!?” Cassandra snapped, her voice ringing out sharp as a whip.

“He killed my sister!” The straining woman turned towards them and Alek startled at the red rimmed eyes and tears dripping down her furious face. “I didn’t know the Inquisition accepted murderers!” A desperate, twisted snarl.

 _”You killed my son.”_ a weeping face of disbelief and horror. 

Alek shook her head.

“Please,” the lead-templar snorted, “she was an apostate. I was only doing my job.”

 _”I was only doing my job.”_ bare feet in a pool of blood, an empty face and a levelled gun.

Alek shivered. 

“Aleksanteri!” Cassandra’s voice drew her out of her memories like a gunshot. “Go fetch Cullen.” The woman demanded. 

_No_ her mind whispered in horror.

"Now!" Cassandea snapped.

Alek saluted instinctively and hurried away, bypassing a late-working Solas, an empty library and past Leliana who was conversing with one of her agents, as she took the last steps out to the Commander’s room and knocked on the thick door, forcing herself _not to think_.

“Come in-“

“Commander!” Alek saluted immediately as she stepped through the door. “Cassandra is requesting your aid down by the barracks. A fight broke out between some Templars and Mages.”

She did not look at the Commander, she stared at his desk and kept her back to the open door, hiding her trembling hands behind her back by desperately gripping them together. 

She knew exactly what Cullen was capable of turning a blind eye to and it terrified her. His desperate face in Origins, his demand to kill all the mages, supporting Meredith to the very end in DAII. Alek felt her breath kick up and held it as the heavy armoured man rose, chair skidding against the ground.

She was gonna be sick. She was genuinely gonna be sick. She was gonna puke all over the Commander’s shoes and he was gonna _kill her-_

 _Get yourself together! ___Anthony’s voice snarled in her ear.

Robotically she lead the Commander back, only half-way processing the world around her as she focused on not breaking down. Some part of her registered that the Commander was asking something of her and her mouth must have automatically responded because he did not ask again. 

She didn’t realise she was back at Cassandra’s side until the older woman cautiously put a hand on her shoulder to steady her as she practically stumbled into her, blinking through the cotton in her mind. 

“-you alright?” Cassandra’s hand caught her chin and Alek realised she was breathing far too quickly as she focused on the woman’s hazel eyes. 

Cassandra wouldn’t let the Commander hurt her. She wouldn’t turn a blind eye a blind eye to _rape_ and _torture-_

Muddily she found herself saying she was alright and with a worried frown Cassandra allowed it, telling her to get a warm bath at the tavern as thanks for her work as she gently shooed her off. 

Alek could hardly remember getting to the tavern or handing the handful of coins Cassandra had pressed into her hand to Flissa who gently led her up the stairs to her normal room. Water arrived and Flissa pressed a bar of soap into her hands and telling her to call her if there was _anything ___she could help her with-

Alek drew her legs to her chest, fighting against the panic as she clawed at her arms, panting. 

She didn’t even remember removing her clothes and she ducked her hand under the water, screaming at the panic pounding in her chest like a great monster. 

_Voices giggling and screaming-_

_Anthony’s gentle hands stroking through the blood bubbling from her ravaged back as she cried-_

_Her Master’s voice praising her as she levelled her gun towards desperate eyes and pressed the trigger-_

Alek slammed her head against the side of the bathtub, tearing at her chest and thighs, biting down on her arm to muffle her screaming. 

_A much too large body folding over hers, whispering filthy praises-_

_Green, so much green, an alien voice laughing at her pain-_

_Leah’s body spasming, her mouth frothing and eyes rolling as she overdosed-_

_Untying dead bodies from thick knots and scrubbing bodily fluids away from the bed they shared-_

__-_ _

__The water was red with blood when she awoke with a start, groaning as she stiffly extracted herself from the water and collapsed in a heap on the floor. She fumbled, dragging the towel towards her and curling into it, shaking as if she was coming down from a high._ _

___”Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.”_ A clinical voice ordained at the back of her head. _ _

__“Shut up.” Alek told it._ _

__-_ _

__The smoke curled from the end of the cigarette, tugged by the wind hitting her back and sweeping towards the great mountain tops in the far distance. One hand lifting the cigarette to her lips as the other tapped restlessly against her knee._ _

__It was getting warmer and she was wearing a pair of leather pants and a new green tunic since the one she’d adopted from Cassandra was starting to look rough around the edges._ _

__“If it isn’t my favourite Ginger,” Varric plopped down beside her, balancing a bowl filled with grit and looking superbly comfortable in his V-neck shirt. She blinked when she realised his hair had been neatly braided with tiny flowers carefully interwoven in the golden strands._ _

__“Why, Varric, you didn’t need to get all dressed up for my sake!” Alek lifted a hand to her face, feigning a shy blush. “You know you only need to say the word and I’d worship your fine chest hair with my tongue on my knees.”_ _

__He snorted. “Nice try kid.” He lifted a hand to his hair. “Apparently a friend brought along another friend,” despite his words he looked immensely pleased._ _

__“Will I be meeting this friend of a friend?” Alek asked curiously, drawing another lungful of smoke._ _

__Varric laughed. “Who knows what Daisy will get up to. You just might.”_ _

__Alek made a noise, earning a raised eyebrow from the other as she scrambled to look normal. “Burnt my finger.” She fumbled out, holding up her cigarette as proof._ _

__“I told you a pipe is far better than those… rolls of yours,” Varric side-eyed her._ _

__“Don’t diss my cigarettes,” Alek poked his side threateningly. “They’re wonderful.”_ _

___Merrill! ___she squealed internally. The beautiful, clever, absolutely adorable elf who’d been her companion all through Dragon Age II. Merrill who’d struck a deal with a demon, been betrayed by her keeper who’d ultimately given her life, and then been kicked out of her clan._ _

___She’d absolutely fallen in love with Merrill and Isabela throughout their interactions and Varric who’d taken the elf under his wing like a papa bird with a new hatchling._ _ _

___She might have squealed when she first learnt of Varric giving Merrill a red ball of yarn to help her find her way home. And Merrill getting the yarn just about all over Lowtown had just about melted her into a pile of mushy goo._ _ _

___And to know what Merrill was somewhere in Skyhold…_ _ _

___Alek stroked the side of her leg, over the tattoo of a grinning Merrill._ _ _

___“You’ve lived an exciting life, haven’t you Varric?” Alek sighed enviously. “Running around the streets with the Champion.”_ _ _

___“Hawke is a special kind of woman; I’ll give you that.” Varric said fondly._ _ _

___The redhead fiddled with her cigarette, rolling it between her fingers. “Nah, Varric.” She chewed on her lower-lip. “What happened to Isabela?” Finding out about Isabela had been her main-reason for getting The Tale of the Champion but she still hadn’t managed to get the damn book._ _ _

___She’d been absolutely enchanted by Isabela, a feminist pirate who did what she wanted and did it with pride. Who didn’t hesitate in the face of what others thought about her. Isabela who had left her but then had sacrificed so much of what she’d been to _come back_ for Hawke. _ _ _

___A part of her wanted to be Isabela, a larger part wanted the pirate to dominate her. She wanted Isabela to look at her the way she’d looked at Hawke._ _ _

___“She caught your fancy, huh?” Varric wiggled his eyebrows._ _ _

___“I’ve… heard… some things,” she answered cautiously. “I wanted to read that book of yours but it never seems to be in when I go looking for it. And considering how good Swords and Shields are that’s just a right shame,” she grumbled huffily._ _ _

___“Rivaini is doing fine, Ginger.” Varric assured her. “Last I heard she’d gone back to the Raiders of the Waking Sea and calling herself Admiral. Knowing her, she probably has a hat and all.”_ _ _

___“So… she’s not coming here?” Alek frowned._ _ _

___Varric guffawed. “Tell you what, Ginger. You write her a letter and I’ll make sure it lands in the right hands.” He leaned towards her conspiringly. “Rivaini would be delighted to learn she has such a cute fan.”_ _ _

___Alek went fifty shades of red. _”Varric.”_ she hissed. “C-can you really?” She stuttered. _ _ _

___After laughing long and hard at her Varric assured her that he would as he waved goodbye to her, still chortling._ _ _

___Alek didn’t even have it in her to be embarrassed – she would be writing a letter to _Isabela!_ How amazing wasn’t that!?_ _ _

___Alek hugged her knees to her chest, squealing soundlessly into her knees as she wiggled her toes._ _ _

___She wondered – what would she write? Something fun? Sing her praise and love? Something… filthy?_ _ _

___She’d need paper. And pen._ _ _

___She hurried to her feet, setting off towards the library. How would she address her? Varric _did_ say she was calling herself Admiral._ _ _

____Dearest Admiral Isabela_ _ _ _

___Alek shook her head with a blush, hurrying her steps._ _ _

___She looked around the many books for her favourite mage, frowning when she couldn’t find him in his usual spots. After a short debate with herself she hurried down a floor, finding Solas deep in thought over a thick elven tome._ _ _

___“Excuse me?” She knocked on the side of the door before stepping inside. “You don’t happen to know where Dorian is?”_ _ _

___Solas who’d raised his head towards her frowned thoughtfully. “I do believe he’s with Kaaras out at the training field.”_ _ _

___“Ah. I must have gone straight past him.” She ducked her head. “Thank you, Solas.”_ _ _

___The bald elf watched her go with his head tilted to the side and eyes furrowed._ _ _

___Alek collided with Dorian, her arms diving around him and had she been able to she would have lifted him clean off his feet. Instead she squeezed him impossibly tight, practically buzzing. Dorian allowed her, drawing her in before gently poking at her until she practically tripped over her words in her hurry to get them out._ _ _

___“Can you believe it!?” She demanded breathlessly. “It’s amazing, right?”_ _ _

___“Sounds like it got you in right the tizzy.” Kaaras peered down at her from over Dorian’s shoulder._ _ _

___“Ah – Herald, I mean Inquisitor!” Alek blurted out startled. “I forgot – Solas did say you were here too. Ah. Er. Hi?” She raised a hand._ _ _

___Dorian snorted, drawing her in and giving her a firm noogie. “I’m glad Varric made you happy.” He pinched her cheek, tugging as she struggled against his grip._ _ _

___She managed to get free, sticking her tongue out. “What are you doing here anyhow?” She asked curiously, looking around._ _ _

___“I promised Dorian to show him some moves.” Kaaras informed her, and for the first time Alek noticed that the Inquisitor was wearing training gear and that Dorian was wearing some of his sturdier armoured robes._ _ _

___“Oh yeah, you’re a mage too, right?” Alek leaned against Dorian, peering at him curiously. “But you also use a sword.”_ _ _

___“It tend to surprise,” Kaaras confided. “It’s very amusing.”_ _ _

___“He’s quite delightful to watch in action.” Dorian smirked. “Run away and they get fried, get too close and they get cleaved.”_ _ _

___“You’re getting really good with your Necromancy magic though.” Kaaras complimented. “Your summoned skeletons are getting quick as lightning.”_ _ _

___“Why-“_ _ _

___Alek looked between the two of them, rolled her eyes, and extracted herself from Dorian with a backwards wave._ _ _

___If the men wanted to play some kind of reverse game of ‘who’s penis is bigger’ that was entirely up to them._ _ _

___Since Leliana had left her with the day off for ‘good work’ Alek knew that the older woman would chase her out with Eightball if she dared to venture close to the top floor. Alek found it a bit hypocritical considering Leliana hardly seemed to know the meaning of the word ‘sleep’ but knew better than to argue._ _ _

___She’d been working under Leliana for some three months now and she was really enjoying her new workload as long as she could keep miles away from the Commander. Since his office was so close to Leliana’s she never had to run errands to him but he did occasionally stop by to talk with the spymaster._ _ _

___Alek would be fine if she never had to see him ever again._ _ _

Plodding back to the library to get some parchment Alek distracted herself with thoughts of the beautiful dark skin and intelligent eyes of one _Admiral Isabela_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's important to remember that Alek is, what I like to call, a volatile narrator.
> 
> The kid ain't alright.
> 
> Also, happy birthday to me.


	5. Crack Your Knuckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexism is a thing, baby

“- and I made her hurt herself but I didn’t _mean to_ -“

Varric had plans to sit down and have a proper chat with Daisy – heavens let it be known that girl got into enough trouble to give a poor dwarf grey hair – but instead found himself confronted by an anxious Cole before he’s even managed two steps outside his door. 

“Whoa, Kid.” Varric reaches out to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder, trying to still his pacing. “One thing at the time, lead me through it.” It’s a familiar thing by now, helping Cole dealing with his insistent urge to help all and everyone he comes across, be it humans or stray nugs.

He wonders what it says about him that he keeps adopting stray kids. First Daisy and now the Kid.

Hawke might have been onto something when she called him a worrywart. 

He tugs Cole along, away from judgemental eyes that follow the spirit boy wherever he goes, though he seems generally blind to them.

“She was in pain,” Cole says, twisting his hands, “aching, haunted, remembering _pain_ so much pain and he was _hurting her_ and I tried to stop it.” Cole’s eyes are wide and distressed. “But I made it worse.” Misery.

Varric pats his shoulder in sympathy. “Not everyone can be fixed, Kid.” It’s old words by now, Cole barely seems to hear him.

“She didn’t want to.” Cole whispers. “But he made her, _no, no begging pleading, haunting eyes condemning her, I’m a good person, rocking pleading, her ledger dripping with red-_ ,” Cole’s words sends a shiver down his spine. “She begged him not to touch her but he wouldn’t listen because he _owned her_.” Cole looks at him with large eyes. “How can one human own another?”

“Oh boy,” Varric looked around, wondering where Chuckles was when he needed him. “It’s not -,” he drew a hand down his face. 

How did you even begin to describe a system of slavery to a boy who ached to do good?

“Is she okay now?” He found himself asking as he led Cole automatically towards Solas rotund. “You said she hurt herself?” It wasn’t really any of his business but he rather someone didn’t find a dead body lying around.

“She woke up and she made herself forget,” Cole fiddled. “She forgot about me.” He sounded awed.

Varric snorted, opening Solas door and ushering Kid inside. “Solas!” He smiled broadly at the suspicious elf. “Don’t I have a fun task for you.”

-

It wasn’t that Alek was actively looking for Merrill or something.

Really.

She was far too busy with work to spend every aching moment looking around desperately for a dalish elf scuttling around. 

Truly.

It was pure chance.

The odds, one in a million.

Her stomach growled from her missed breakfast and lunch and Alek made an impatient noise as she pressed her forearm against it and her face closer to the stone wall with an achy kind of hunger that had nothing to do with food.

Meeting Leliana had been awe inspiring but a part of her was so terrified of what the woman would do to her if she made a single wrong step that her awe had been intermixed with terror. But Merrill- Merrill was different. It felt like only yesterday she sat in Francis house crying as Merrill’s clan cast her out, drinking far too much alcohol and muttering curses about the idiotic keeper and wiping tears from her face. 

She had romanced Isabela on her first playthrough and Isabela would always have a special place in her heart – but Merrill – Merrill had sought her out in the midst of her emotional weakness and begged for her to hold her close and Alek’s heart had done the gooey thing where it practically melted out of her chest. 

All of her Dragon Age companions held a special place in her heart. It was had made her ink them in the first place – a strange sort of attachment that made her curl up at night and imagine them close. Varied characters from games and movies had been fixated into her life; many of them on her back and shoulders. Sephiroth, Angeal, Genesis, Zack and Cloud crowded around her left breast and side, Mystique from X-Men curled around her right nipple with a smirk, other characters branching out.

But Dragon Age was different. She was _in_ Dragon Age. She hadn’t played much of Inquisition but she’d spent months exhausting all options in Origins and DAII, learning all there was to know about her companions doing everything in her power to find the best possible outcome for them. To kill Marjolaine or leave her alive, what to do with Varric’s brother and Fenris sister? Was Aveline the happiest with Donnic-? What about Morrigan and Alistair? What about Loghain? Zevran, Shale, Oghren, Anders, Wynne, Velanna, Sigrun, _Justice-_

It was exhausting just to think about.

What had happened to the Warden in this world? Who had been romanced, what had happened to them, what had become of all the companions, what decisions had been made? Dragon Age was extensive in game form – as real life people, what had become of them?

The relief that overwhelmed her upon seeing Merrill alive and well and smiling, her legs kicking like a child as she chatted happily with Dorian about one thing or the other, was overwhelming.

Alek was… Alek didn’t know what she was. 

Merrill looked impossibly amazing as a real person. Her hair curling around her ears, her vallaslin soft and intricate on her face and her eyes large and thoughtful as she considered whatever Dorian had said to her.

Alek had managed to find a small little hidey hole among the rubble of a part of Skyhold that hadn’t been fixed up yet, squeezing herself in with a perfect overview of the small personal training ground for the Inner Circle where Cassandra often sat down to read when it was empty.

Leliana was away doing spy things and Alek was supposed to be translating letters. But instead she was sitting like a creep in the cold but she couldn’t get herself to move for the world of her.

She knew if she went down there Dorian would wave her over and she would be able to talk to Merrill in person.

So why wasn’t she moving?

She had asked herself the question an hour ago and her mind still wasn’t conjuring any answers. 

She couldn’t feel her toes. 

Alek suppressed another full-body shiver, curling tighter around her knees as Varric ambled up to Dorian and Merrill, the elf waving happily to the grinning dwarf. There is a boy with him, under a wide-brimmed hat and gangly walk. 

Alek allowed her eyes to linger for a moment, feeling a vague sense of recognition.

She jerked, her head slamming against the brick before she toppled backwards, arms flailing, “Fucking-“ she crashed to the ground with all the grace of a three year old, blinking at the musty ceiling. “I’m an idiot,” she decided wryly.

No way the boy had seen her. 

-

Leliana was, unsurprisingly, a brutal taskmaster. She expected perfection but unlike Anthony praised her for her good work.

It was mystifying how a simple thank you could make her feel like she’d downed a bottle of whisky. 

The Nightingale introduced her to a whole new world of translating letters and missives, to look for code words and keys and how to recognise which letters were from where and aimed to who. All post in Skyhold went through Leliana and Alek liked watching her work, scanning through them with intense concentration as she looked for hidden messages.

It was no wonder Leliana always seemed to know what was going on in Skyhold. She _was_. 

Whether it was through letters or words from her spies, innocent looking cooks, interrogation or scuttling mage childlings. If the spymaster wanted the information she found a way of getting it.

Alek was torn between awe and terror.

She still didn’t know what the other woman thought of her but she’d managed to reign in her paranoia to the point that she could look Leliana in the eye after many frequent, kind but firm, nudges of her chin. 

She still, occasionally, forgot herself or made mistakes but Leliana never lashed out. For someone with such a terrifying reputation Alek didn’t know what to make of her.

She tried very hard not to breathe in the subtle smell of iron and ink hovering beside her as Leliana studied her translation of a key missive. It hadn’t been a terrible hard one to crack but the older woman looked pleased nonetheless. 

“You are getting better,” the Orlesian drawled, rolling the parchment up. “I might just consider making you all mine.” Alek still translated notes from her old job, it sort of interwove into her new work under Leliana.

She wondered what it would be like to work completely under her as one of her people. 

Unbidden, a picture of herself, naked and stretched out and helpless under the onslaught of the other’s clever tongue flashed through her mind, nearly making her knock the pot of ink as she made to put the feather in place.

“You tease,” Alek stroked her chin thoughtfully, daringly, “but I certainly wouldn’t resist if you wished to tie me down and make me all yours.”

Leliana’s eyes flashed with amusement and something darker. “I tie up a lot of people,” she drawled, “most do not enjoy it.”

“Unless you wish them too,” Alek pointed out.

“A fair point,” Leliana conceded. “What makes you think you would be one of them?”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t?” Alek challenged. “Do you habitually contemplate me on my knees, a collar and leash as I crawl towards you and call you _Mistress_? I hear it’s all the rage in Tevin-”

Leliana slammed her hands down on the table and she stared wide-eyed at the older woman, her hand having automatically gone for the knife in her boots. “Do not,” Leliana bit out slowly, “compare me to them. I am no one’s _master_.” 

Instincts warred – submit or attack had always been her go-to response but Leliana was demanding something else.

Slowly, she relaxed in her chair, her foot thumping to the ground. “I apologize,” she said, “I meant no ill by it.”

Leliana nodded sharply and slowly they returned to their tasks, the Orlesian’s voice gently instructing her and a hand slowly coming up to linger on her shoulder.

A ball of warmth, like a shot of whisky, curled in the depth of her chest and Alek rubbed at it in bemusement.

-

She slammed her shoulder into the Templar’s stomach, heaving him clean off his feet and onto his back. A hand found her arm, spinning her around and decked her clean in the face with a crunch as her nose broke and blood splattered. 

Alek didn’t let the pain distract her for a moment.

She moved with the pull, ramming her knee up into the man’s crotch and when he released her slammed her palms over both his ears, air crashed down his ear-canals and bursting his eardrums. He howled, stumbling from the vertigo. She spun, dodging an armoured arm and found a heap of curled hair, grabbed and head-butted the woman clean in the face. 

Someone hauled her off her feet and she rolled with it, muscles bunching as she forced her entire weight over their head, fingers blackening their skin as they instinctively tried to let go of her, and she jumped the moment they hit the floor, her boot crunching down on both wrists, breaking them, and then lurched into a roll over them, landing and straightening with her back against the wall. 

A fist came towards her and she jerked, it clanged against the wall and Alek bared her teeth, snarling as she lurched out and bit down, stubble brushing her lips as she sunk her teeth deep into flesh and muscles, yanking sharply, tearing a large stripe of flesh clean off as the Templar stumbled back with a gurgle of disbelief. 

Blood pounded through her veins and she grinned, licking her lips as she advanced on the last two ready to- 

A strong body slammed into her, grappling her down and she snarled as long, strong fingers found her neck, forcing her down flat against the ground, her cheek scraping against the floor-boards. She struggled but the person above her clenched their thighs, putting their entire armoured weight upon her.

“ _Aleksanteri!_ ” Cassandra’s voice hissed in her ear, freezing the fire crawling through her veins. “Stop struggling.”

Alek panted against the floor, slowly becoming aware of the ruckus around her, the fearful eyes and whispers. Iron Bull and his Chargers’ were rounding up the Templars that had jumped her amidst groans of hurt. The pounding pain from her broken nose crawled slowly to her awareness, as did the weight of the woman on top of her, the force of her grip strong and unyielding.

The tavern was emptied, except for Cassandra, Iron Bull and Alek. 

Cassandra hauled her to her feet, a warning squeeze against her neck before releasing her. She stumbled away from her, wiping at the blood around her mouth self-consciously, avoiding all eyes as she checked her nose, grabbing and yanking it back into place with a twist of her wrist. 

It was Iron Bull who broke the silence. “That was some fighting.” 

Alek hugged her arms around her chest, the silence settling over her like a dangling guillotine waiting to fall. 

Cassandra sighed. “We are not going to condemn you for defending yourself.” The Seeker told her bluntly. “Flissa explained the situation. Said he laid hands on you and when you told him off he did it again.”

“So you laid him flat and his friends scrambled to defend him.” Iron Bull stepped into the conversation, smooth as oil. “She sounded quite impressed by you.” 

A distant part of her mind reminded her that Flissa was an agent of the Nightingale. That Leliana was most likely being updated at that very moment.

Alek didn’t know what to say. Couldn’t figure out what was safe to say. What was expected of her. Her mind worked too fast and too slow, scrambling for solutions, words, actions.

“I never said I couldn’t fight.” It sounded weak, even to her ears. 

Alek knew it was the principal of the matter. She was part of an organisation that, when you broke it all down to the base of it, worked as a military organisation. One would have to be blind and deaf to miss the recruitment posters and hollers, anyone and everyone who could fight being rounded up.

It was about being prepared, knowing who could fight, organising towards the big fight they were all heading towards; to fight Corypheus and his army.

And she’d just taken down several Templars with only a broken nose to show for it. Templars who were renowned for their fighting prowess, trained from early age to keep the “evil mages” under control.

Alek knew it looked bad. 

Working under Anthony had given her a good grasp of the ins and outs of organisations. They’d taken out rivalry gangs and small corporations through manipulation and sheer destruction, Alek plastered to his side like a hound waiting for her command, always watching.

A stranger, who looked strange, acted strange, showed sudden skills in fighting and hadn’t volunteered said skills to those above-? Anthony would have pegged them three seconds flat as a spy and frolicked in their destruction under his clever hands.

She stared at the ground, imaging the planks opening up and dragging her to her rightful home beside the devil. She could see herself red skinned and black horned by his side, the rottenness of her soul exposed for all to see. 

She felt filthy, standing there beside them: them, heroic video game characters, she, a misplaced rotten human harbouring stupid secrets from a stupid world that she’d probably never see again anyhow. But she could just as little shake them off as a dog could shake its fur clean off its body. They shaped her, formed her, made her suspicious, made her different, made her ugly.

What was she supposed to do? Tear her skin off? Forget Anthony ever found her? Pretend she hadn’t tasted the come and death on his tongue as he kissed her? Act the helpless victim under the hands of a man and –

No. She couldn’t do it. Not again. Not ever. Damn the consequences. Alek would sooner rather die.

Self-preservation kept her quiet, kept her head-low and skittish but she refused to cower before a _man_. Her body was hers. _Hers_. It was a line she would never allow anyone to cross ever again.

Scrubbing death, filth and bodily fluids out of their shared bed as Anthony waltzed out to drink. A mutilated body, eyes still wide with horror, dumped on the floor to be disposed of. Violated, tortured, just like her, the only thing differentiating them the heart pounding in her chest. 

And she’d lie there, on the same mattress where they died, spooned into the arms of their killer as he took her her again and again, moaning and praising her, and she’d hate herself.

Defensiveness straightened her back. “It wasn’t like anyone asked me if I could fight,” she said. “I joined up and they sent me off to do laundry and I didn’t question it, true, but no-one asked so that’s entirely on you.” 

“Easy there, girl.” Iron Bull cautioned. “Or one could think you’re questioning Red’s methods.”

 _Ah,_ Alek realized, _Leliana is going to kill me._

“Maybe I am,” her mouth said stupidly. 

How could she not when Leliana allowed someone like her to work for the inquisition? 

“Aleksanteri! Iron Bull!” Cassandra snapped. “Behave. You,” she pointed at Alek, “start at the beginning.”

“Well,” she begun, damn the consequences, the monster inside her snarled as it crawled white-hot through her veins, “I came in here to have my dinner and take a bath so I paid Flissa and took my bowl and ale and went to sit down. But you know how men are, they took one look and made one grab for my ass and I told them off, firmly mind you. I would have punched him immediately but Flissa warmed me from doing that so I tried to behave, yeah? But they laughed and I don’t like it when they laugh at me and then one of the idiots tried to pull me into his lap so I dumped my bowl over his head, smashed the glass into his temple and broke his nose, beautifully, I might say.” She spread her hands. “But you know how men are, weak and pathetic and prideful and they scrambled to help their mate and I couldn’t just stand there, ya know? So I defended myself and I’m just so much better than those pathetic little rats and such it was that I won and then you walked in and kept the last two from wandering into some kind of early grave of idiocy and wow, they should know better but _men never seems to learn_.” She bared her teeth “So, yeah, there you have it.”

There was a moment of silence and then – 

Cassandra let out a snort of laughter. 

The monster that had surged towards the surface withered in surprise at her reaction. 

The Seeker raised a hand, waved it dismissively at the large qunari. “I’ll take it from here.” She clasped a hand on Alek’s shoulder and peered down at her, mouth in the tiniest of smirks but her eyes were serious. “Come, let us head back to the cabin.”

Alek couldn’t stop staring at the Seeker’s broad shoulders as they wandered through the cold, theirs breaths misting in the air. Above them twin moons cast their light and fire flickered from torches and fire pits, low murmurs from stationed guards reaching them as they bypassed one of their stations. One of Leliana’s people hurried past with nary a glance.

Warmth enveloped her and she shrugged off her cloak as they walked upstairs, dropping it just outside Cassandra’s room on the wooden bench. 

Cassandra closed the door behind them.

The monster prowled just under the surface and she tensed as Cassandra went to remove her shield and sword and didn’t relax until she leaned them against the wall. 

“You did not act in defence but in offense.” Cassandra dropped down in the only chair, stretching out her long legs as she regarded the girl. “You have been trained, there is no denying that – but it is a volatile style, meant to hurt and to hurt fast.” The Seeker tilted her head. “I won’t ask who taught you, I can see you will not speak of it but - relax, you are coiled tenser than a venomback.” 

Alek slowly dropped down on the edge of the bed, forcing herself to release most of the obvious tension in her body.

“It is an effective way of fighting for someone of your stature.” Cassandra continued. “But it’s not always the right way of fighting.” The older woman rubbed her chin. “When I was younger,” she said, “my trainers always said I was too hasty, to violent, striking hard before thinking. I was determined to prove my worth and it got me into more trouble than out of it.” 

Silence lapsed between them, Cassandra thoughtfully staring out the window and Alek fidgeting uncomfortably. 

“What does this have to do with me?” She demanded finally. 

Cassandra’s boots scraped against the floor as she shifted, heels down, hands on her knees as she leaned forward to look at her.

“I want to train you.” The Seeker said bluntly. “I want to show you a different way of fighting.”

“A different way of fighting?” Alek echoed.

“Clearly you know how to use your fists but I want to show you how to use a sword and a shield.” Cassandra told her. 

Alek looked down at her hands, covered with scratches and old scars, bruised and torn from the fighting, skin split. Hands that had been trained to choke the air out of lungs and pull the trigger on a gun. 

Alek touched her left leg, her fingers ghosting over the place where she knew Galadriel smiled benignly, almost secretly, her eyes knowing even in ink. 

When Alek was nine years old she’d been so thirsty and hungry she’d sobbed as she scooped thick watery mud and shoved it desperately into her mouth. There’d been bugs and worms, bits of grass, and she hadn’t cared as she sobbed and ate, vomiting it up, but just replacing it with new mud. 

She’d been feverish for days afterwards as she laid by the road, but every morning she crawled back to that muddy pile and it had kept her alive. 

It had been before meeting Anthony, before she got to the city, after her parents’ death sent her stumbling into the woods. That echoing helplessness of her youth had followed her throughout her life. 

Leah had taught her how to lash out, to hurt, to brutalize and to run. She looked at her broken at Anthony’s feet with sneers of disgust and scoffed as Francis stitched her up. “An eye for an eye,” Leah used to say, “they’ll hurt you but you might as well give as good as you get.”

Everything she’d ever learn in life had been to further her own survival – to give her a fighting chance. She’d fought and snarled, clawed herself to her right to turn nineteen.

But Cassandra Pentaghast was offering her something different. Just like Leliana who’d given her work and a place, Cassandra was offering her a different way of life.

“Why me?” Alek gestured broadly. “There’s plenty of men and women out there. I’m not a soldier – I won’t ever be a soldier.” 

“And I’m not asking you to.” Cassandra frowned at her but took a deep breath and rubbed her eyes. “I am not good at this kind of thing.” She grumbled. “Will you not accept that I simply want to teach you?”

“No one ever does anything without expecting something back.” Alek shot back. “Leliana is teaching me because she has use of me. But you get nothing of teaching me how to fight!”

Something strange flickered in the older woman’s eyes, something Alek did not understand.

“Aleksanteri,” Cassandra begun but she didn’t find the words and it faded into the silence. “Maybe I am selfish,” the woman said finally. But she did not expand on it and Alek strangely shameful where she sat.

 _“We don’t think that; when we think there is no hope left we keep looking until find some. We live to make the impossible, possible – that is our focus.”_ Lightning had said at the end of Final Fantasy XIII to Orphan.

Alek stood up suddenly, crossing the room to the older woman.

Cassandra had just returned from a mission – Alek hadn’t even noticed. Even sweaty after days on the road the Seeker smelled good in that musty earthy sort of way. 

_”Find your own kind of hell.”_ Lightning whispered in the back of her mind.

“I want you to teach me,” she said.


	6. Bare Your Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicotine embraces nightshade as kin, luv.

Aleksanteri plodded across the room, scanning the fancy perfumes and colognes by the surprisingly plain mirror and couldn’t resist reaching out to touch a small pink glass bottle, sniffing it curiously. Replacing it, heady with the smell of roses, she sprawled out on the bed face first in the pillow and wiggled her toes. She rolled over, blinking lazily at the ceiling and releasing a long drawn out sigh.

She was absolutely not, by any imagination, hiding from Leliana.

She stuffed her trembling, ink stained and overworked fingers down the front of her pants and muttered foul curse in Russian when they stung at the slightest movement. 

If she ever got hold of Iron Bull she was gonna strange him. She’d bet anything in the world that he’d sold her out to Leliana and was the root of the sudden unpleasant work and falsely reassuring smiles that sent shivers racing up her back. It had been over a month but the other redhead clearly knew how to hold a grudge

She almost let her hand drift lower but she knew Dorian could return any moment and while months of sharing a tent hadn’t been kind to her libido she hadn’t become that desperate. Besides, her hand clearly wasn’t up for it and while she knew how to work her left, after years with it broken on and off, but she wasn’t in the mode to exercise it.

Her eyes drifted back to the mirror, large and domineering with simple, gentle, curves. 

She looked to the door, gnawing on her lower lip. 

Rolling off the bed she took an unsure step to its reflective surface, drawing a sharp breath as she looked into it properly. 

Short red hair, green eyes, that was familiar. The skin over her nose and across her cheekbones were sunburnt, her eye still bruised from the fight but slowly fading into a mottled green and yellow colour. 

She pulled her tunic off, dropping it to the ground.

Her skin had darkened during the months under the strange sunny winter days in Thedas and while she was still waif like her arms and stomach was cording with muscles. She was looking as she did when Anthony had kept her at her healthiest and though her hips would always be narrow and her breasts small her thighs were hard with muscles and her stance more confident.

Faces stared back at her, some encouraging, some frowning and serious – she drifted the tips of her fingers over scaly blue skin, over spiky hair, smirking grins. She brushed the leaves on Poison Ivy on her arm, turning to look over her shoulder at the characters watching her back.

Her hand rose, touching the brand on her cheek.

She bared her teeth at the mirror.

The door clicked gently shut and Alek spun to find Dorian who was studying her bared skin contemplatively. She made an aborted move to cover herself but realized there was nothing sexual about the way the man was studying her – quite the opposite – and let her hands fall. 

“I didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” she said.

“I did not expect to find a half-naked woman in my room so the surprise is dual,” Dorian cocked his head to the side. “May I?” He beckoned for her to come closer. 

Alek slowly stepped towards him, into the light drifting from the window, and the Tevinter mage drew a sharp breath when he laid eyes on her properly. The eyes telling so many stories, conveying so much depth, etched into her skin as constant companion and friends to keep close. 

Many of them had been mutilated, most on her back twisted by thick grotesque scars, a large burn covering the majority of her lower back, warping what had been into a mess of pink interloping with colours. Dorian lingered on the single eye that had survived in the midst of it, peering out with accusation, as he slowly circled her. 

Dorian had seen slaves whipped back in Tevinter – it was rare that it happened in public, but it did. He recognised the long lines slashing through the colourful people on her back and by the looks of it, someone had done it often, several times, and for a long extended time. Some of the scars had been overlapped with the tattoos and then torn open anew.

There were other marks too – small holes where something had pierced into her, sometimes even going straight through by the looks of it. Small scars at the crook of her elbow where something small had been pierced repeatedly. Stab wounds – part of her left nipple had been cut off and it tore sharply down, disfiguring the flesh.

Torture, Dorian realized with an absent sort of muted horror. Extensive and brutal.

He reached out and when she made no move to draw back, touched her skin gently, carefully, just as he’d itched to do since the first time he saw them. The tattoos were smooth – much smoother than he’d expected. It looked nothing like the pointy, sometimes crude, marks he’d seen before. Even the carefully woven vallaslin on Merrill wasn’t anywhere near as fine; colour fading into each other, bringing an entirely new depth to the characters.

She looked so small half-naked beneath his broad hands and she shivered as he stroked his hands from her shoulders, down her arms, taking her hands into his and squeezing. 

_“Na via lerno victoria,”_ he murmured softly. “Thank you.”

Her lip quirked at the corner. “We all deserve a Wednesday surprise.” She bent down to pick up her shirt, shrugging it on. 

“I must say that artwork is exquisite,” Dorian started unbuckling belts as Alek curled up on his bed with her chin on her knees. “Do they have a story – the characters?” He asked, dropping his coat to the ground and stretching out with groan, like a great jungle cat. 

“Of course.” Alek watched as he started rummaging for a new coat, this one warm and soft. “They’re all from my favourite stories and myths – sentimental value.” 

“Have you told our resident story teller know about them?” 

“Varric?” Alek wiggled her toes. “No, I suppose I haven’t. But they’re sort of… my stories, if you know what I mean?” 

“Quite.” Dorian buckled the last buckle and held out a hand. “Come on then.” 

“I was actually hiding from Leliana,” Alek said as they wandered down towards the tavern. “My poor hand is absolutely wrecked from the work she’s put me through,” she held out her hand demonstratively. 

“What in the world have you done to earn the ire of our Nightingale?” Dorian sounded impressed, admiring her shaking ink-stained fingers.

Alek puffed her cheeks. “Iron Bull sold me out, the bastard.” 

“What a bastard.” Dorian agreed. 

Dorian paid for lunch and bought along a bottle of wine and they found a bench in the gardens where they curled up together. Alek had to use her left hand to keep from spilling the wine and Dorian laughed at her as she attempted to spoon the grit into her mouth with her right and a determined scowl.

“You try scrawling out a hundred letters an hour with a lurking Nightingale stalking around your back with glowing eyes. I’ve half-expected her to swoop down and bite me should I falter.”

“Not that you’d protest if she did,” Dorian smirked at her.

“Oh hush,” Alek chewed and swallowed. “I’m not the one nosing around two qunaris’.”

Dorian choked on his wine. 

“Now,” he said hoarsely, “where would you get that idea?” 

“I have eyes.” Alek drawled. “You get all… soft… when you talk about them and you think no one’s looking.” She patted his shoulder sympathetically when he went pale. 

“You tell no-one.” He poked her chest.

“Not even gonna deny it?” Alek batted at his hand. 

Dorian hesitated. “Did I tell you about my father?” 

“The asshole?” Dorian’s brows shot up. “I just know Bull gets all huffy about him sometimes.” She had, in fact, overheard the qunari muttering about the man one evening when he lumbered into the tavern. “He didn’t sound very impressed.” Francis hadn’t either.

Alek admired the soft smile that bloomed with fondness. 

Had Dorian been a woman, Alek would have been all over him. He was a clever man, determined and yet wounded by something that made him hesitate to speak openly about his sexuality or interest in men. He didn’t ask about her past or pressed her for information but rather expressed curiosity and an open mind.

“My father,” Dorian said slowly, “did not approve of my interest in men. I was bred to spread the bloodline of the glorious Pavus line and my happiness meant nothing compared to that. My parents arranged a marriage,” he said heavily, “I refused, I said I would not spend the rest of my life pretending to be something I’m not. My father did not approve.” Dorian scowled. “He wanted to change me with the help of blood magic.” Alek found his hand, squeezing. “I had spent years trying to live up to his explanations but he wanted to change the very essence of me. I would never be okay just being me.”

“You are the best the way you are now.” She pressed her lips against his knuckles, lingering. “You are not that person anymore. I am glad you got away before he could go through with it.”

“So am I.” Dorian leaned back, looking out towards the setting sun. 

Alek stroked her fingers over the fine rings on his hand, measuring the heavy palm and long fingers against her own. 

“My parents died when I was young,” she found herself saying. “I spent months on my own afterwards, digging through trash bins and doing absolutely anything I could to survive. But when I was ten I was found by a man by the name Anthony.” She touched the brand on her cheek, aware of the other’s eyes upon her. “He was… he wasn’t a kind man.” She said reluctantly. “He had these ideas of what I should be and what I should do and he didn’t hesitate to correct anything that didn’t fit with his idea of me.”

Dorian listened quietly. 

“I got away and found myself here but not before spending many years with him.” She looked up, meeting his eyes, aware of what Dorian would read into her words after seeing her back. “But we’re free now, yeah?” She offered a smile.

“The mark on your cheek…”

“Dorian.”

“Alek.”

They stared at each other. 

“You are not that person anymore. _We_ are not those people anymore.” Dorian said.

And looking into his eyes Alek could almost believe it was true.

-

Crouching down, fingers digging into the ground, Alek growled – teeth bared and bubbling fury crawling through her veins. She lunged towards Cassandra but Iron Bull caught her first, slamming her down into the ground.

Cassandra straightened from her defensive crouch as Alek slammed her forehead into the ground and breathed harshly through her nose, trying to calm herself beneath the qunari’s weight. 

“You lack control,” the Seeker said disapprovingly. “You lash out, lose sense of who is enemy and who is friend.” 

“I know.” Alek snarled. “I know.” She squeezed her eyes shut.

Iron Bull removed his weight from her but Alek didn’t move. The Seeker sighed, sinking down into a crouch beside her. “Your rage needs to be controlled,” she said. “But I cannot help you if you will not speak of it.”

Alek clenched her teeth as she pushed from the ground, sitting down on her butt and looking up at the other. “What do you want me to say – that I have issues?”

“A good start as any,” Bull rumbled.

Alek threw her hands up. “Fine, I have issues and this – I’m not made for whatever this is!” 

“Wrong,” Cassandra poked her chest with a gloved finger, “you can learn – I will make you learn – but it will mean you will fail before you can win.”

Alek tugged her fingers through her sweaty hair. “You truly think that?” She demanded. “I can’t even spend five minutes without losing control.”

“And _what_ exactly is making you lose control?” Iron Bull stepped closer. “Something isn’t just making you angry, it’s making you _scared_.”

“Why, Iron Bull, you don’t see me digging through your mind.”

“And _you_ don’t see me attacking anyone who happen to come within snapping distance of me.” He said with false pleasantness. 

Alek bared her teeth in a snarl but yelped when Cassandra cuffed the back of her head. “Really.” She said, unimpressed. “That isn’t helping anything.” She shot a look at Iron Bull. “Nor are you.”

The qunari raised both hands. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He called out to Krem but not without shooting one last look at the redhead on the ground.

Alek let out a long sigh when he disappeared and rubbed at her forehead. “I’m not doing very well, am I?”

“No you’re not.” Cassandra agreed. “But you will once you stop sulking.” She rose. 

Alek gaped at her. “I am not sulking!”

“Self-pity, then?” The Seeker raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Brooding, moping, mooning about.”

“I’ll show you _moping_.” Alek scrambled to her feet, grabbing the shield and training sword she’d thrown in her anger. 

Cassandra twirled her sword and Alek grinned as she raised her shield.

-

She paid Flissa for her room and fiddled with the new soap she had bought, a sort of earthy, almost wooden smell, like bark and thanked her in a hurry as the last water splashed into the tub.

She might have smoked enough cigarettes to leave her dizzy from the nicotine and paid for a flask of whisky, finishing half, before she actually stumbled her way to her room. 

She locked the door, stripping her clothes and sunk down in the warmth. It prickled against her goose bumps from the cold and she rubbed at her skin, trying to lay them flat. She tucked her head and let the warmth crawl into every essence and poor, heating her down to her very pores. 

Thanks to her weakly baths she wasn’t making much in the ways of money but after being assigned to Leliana she’s sort of gaped when she picked out her month’s pay. She had bought a new pair of pants, the insides soft with wool, and knee-high boots lined with fur. She’d also bought a proper leather jacket, the insides and hood lined with wolf-fur, and made with several small pockets for rogues. Alek had filled one of the pockets with cigarettes and a lighter, another with lockpicks which she’d chatted up from Sera. 

She was gonna smell her best before she put them on and she smiled beneath the water surface as the soap melted in the water. She scrubbed her arms and legs, her fingers lingering over Merrill’s picture for several moments before she shook herself out of it.

She wondered if the Hawke on her leg, the standard female-Hawke, looked like the Hawke on her leg. She hoped she did.

She carded her fingers through her hair, oily with sweat and whatever happened to splash into it during her and Cassandra’s training. She wrinkled her nose at the grains of sand that splashed into the water and tugged hard at a lump of mud which she threw aside on the floor. 

“Don’t be afraid-“ Alek’s breath caught and she jerked, spinning, seeking out that _familiar_ voice with rising horror-

“No, please! I’m a friend! I am not here to hurt you!” And the boy with the wide-brimmed hat that had walked beside Varric flickered suddenly before her, his eyes wide and hands thrown out, as if to stop her with sheer will alone.

For a moment Alek only knew grey eyes and then she blinked hard, once, twice, and opened her mouth-

 _“Who is he? Why is he here? Why is he so familiar?”_ he took the words from her mouth in a murmur. “I am Cole.” He said. “I am Varric’s friend.” He sounded pleased to introduce himself as so and Alek’s mouth clicked shut. 

She stared. 

The griminess from the soap darkened the water to a dim grey and hid her legs and she didn’t dare to move.

“Why are you here?” She asked breathlessly. 

“I am a spirit.” Cole, the boy, said cocking his head. “I could hear your pain and I made you hurt and Solas said I should apologize when I make someone else feel pain.” Cole nodded his head.

“… Couldn’t you have waited until I was done bathing?” 

“Why?” Cole asked with wide-eyes that made Alek think of Merrill. 

A thought nudged at the edge of her mind, that the boy looked familiar, that maybe –

She shook her head. 

“I don’t ever remember seeing you before.” She said instead.

“Because you made yourself _forget the pain_.” Cole took a step towards her, apparently not aware of her nudity nor caring. “I made you hurt yourself and then you forgot.” 

Memories of waking up in the bathtub or beside it, her arms scratched with blood-

“Yes! Yes! You remember!” Cole sounded delighted.

“And you’re here to apologize for that?” Alek asked sceptically. 

“Yes!” Cole said again, nodding feverishly. 

“… Huh.” Alek looked at the spirit boy, gangly with youth. He made her think of May, a young girl who had remained with them for a couple of months before getting shot. She’d been thirteen, a runaway convinced that serving Anthony would be a thousand times better than getting beat by her adoptive mother. She’d died running drugs for Anthony.

But the same earnestness that May had looked up at her with was so clear to see in Cole’s eyes and made her sink deeper into the water. 

“You… are forgiven?” 

Cole’s smile was blinding.

“I want to help you.” He told her.

Alek stared at the spirit boy in bemusement. She was in an unusually good mood – the calm from a batch of cigarettes and several shots of whisky cottoning her mind- and it was probably the only thing keeping her from lunging at the boy, screaming and just daring him to – that, and he was Varric’s friend and she didn’t dare to get on the dwarf’s bad-side.

And she was sort of half-convinced this was some sort of drunken dream because really, a spirit boy named Cole that wanted to help _her_ invading her personal bathing time. _Really._

Maybe he was her guilty conscience? Some deep part of her soul speaking out to her? 

“I don’t want help,” she said. “Just ignore it - I’m handling it.”

Cole’s face fell. “Varric said that I can’t help everyone.” The spirit murmured, and Alek could almost see him float away dejectively despite his feet never leaving the floor. 

“Did you tell Varric about me?” She asked warily. 

_“They can’t know, they mustn’t know, please-“_ the boy broke off his whispering, his eyes like moons. “I want to help, not hurt.” He murmured. “I have not told.” He said almost reverently. 

Well, Alek thought, sinking deeper into the water. 

At least he hadn’t tried to kill her.

-

By morning, as she stumbled out of the bath and blinked blearily against the sun, she was dead-convinced it was the strangest dream she’d ever had.

-

“What a fascinating thing.” Merrill’a accented voice froze Alek, half-mussed and half-way out the tent with a great yawn and she nearly bit her tongue off as she clicked her mouth shut. 

She might have made a noise that was an embarrassing mix of awe and shock that sounded much like her choking because the dalish elf looked over at her with an inquiring look on her face. 

“Uh-“Alek opened and closed her mouth several times, her ears flushed bright red. “Bike,” she managed to spit out. She cleared her throat. “It- It’s a bike.” She stuttered. 

Inside she wailed about making an absolute fool of herself. 

Merrill prodded it curiously. “Dorian told me about it.” She said. “That it could make you move really fast by moving your legs up and down?” 

“Yeah,” Alek agreed, flustered. “You sit on the saddle and force the peddles to move around and-“ she crouched down on the other side of the bike, “see this chain and how it pulls when you-“ Merrill pressed down and watched the bike lurch, “yeah, just like that.” 

“Amazing.” Merrill looked up, her eyes too large for her face and Alek didn’t know what to do with herself.

She nicked her finger on the chain when she drew back too quickly and swore quietly to herself as she pressed it discreetly against her dark pants. 

“Y-yeah,” she heard herself agreeing. “A friend made it for me.” Or bought it… and had it stolen in death… but details, really. 

Leia was probably fine with it. Really.

“It’s the only one of its kind.” _In this world,_ she thought even as she straightened with more confidence. “You’re Merrill, from Varric’s book, aren’t you?” 

The elf flushed. “Oh I forgot to introduce myself again – Varric says I need to – yes, Merrill is me. Or I mean, I am Merrill, that is.” Merrill smiled a bit awkwardly and waved her hand. 

Alek stared and she swore her heart jumped a beat.

“I’m Aleksanteri, or Alek – if you will.” She dared to stretch out her hand and Merrill caught it and held, smiling widely, and she was so warm, so real, that for a moment Alek didn’t know what to make of herself.

“Varric spoke of you,” Merrill tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “He said you’d written a letter to Isabela.” 

“He-he told you that?” Alek squeaked, horrified.

“’Bela till be so happy to hear she has a fan!” Merrill said happily, her eyes crinkling with her smile

“I like you too!” Alek blurted out, queen of everything awkward, and she wanted to be swallowed up as Merrill’s eyes widened and her mouth formed a small ‘o’. “I mean – I mean I read about everything and- and you were so _amazing_ and I really admire you for standing up for what you believed in and-“Alek clutched a hand over her mouth. “I’m just making it worse, aren’t I?” She said absolutely mortified, her voice muffled. 

To her awe, Merrill flushed pink. 

“O-oh.” The dalish elf murmured, the very tips of her ears darkening and then she smiled and caught her wrist. “Come on!” 

Alek absolutely blanked as she hurried after the other, and for a moment, just a moment, it was as if all her dreams in the world had come alive as she hurried her steps to keep up.

-

Alek found herself in the library, so close to Merrill that the wooden smell might as well have dug a permanent spot in her nose. They went from talking about Varric’s books to Isabela, to Merrill and her magic, to magic to Hawke and from Hawke to all the companions. 

And Alek listened wide-eyed and overwhelmed as Merrill told her about the fates of the characters she carried on her skin like old friends and her heart pounded too hard and too fast in her chest. 

And if she curled up with tears in her eyes and a hand digging into her thigh with bruising strength that night that was no-one’s business but her own. 

-

This world’s Hawke was a mage woman and from Merrill’s stories she built the picture of a a sarcastic, faithful, brilliant woman as sassy as she was protective. She had romanced Anders and for a while they had been happy – until he blew up the chantry and fled after being spared by Hawke.

Merrill said she’d originally contemplated going back to Kirkwall but seeing her friend so heartbroken had stopped her in her tracks. 

“I couldn’t just leave her,” Merrill had said, curled up with her legs tucked beneath her. And Alek had taken in the soft smile and warm eyes with a kind of awe and happiness that was nearly overwhelming.

Fenrir was out hunting slavers, just as Varric had told her, and Aveline was busy cleaning up after the mess in Kirkwall. 

“She’s still with Donnic,” Merrill said, eyes crinkling. 

Sebastian had been angry with Hawke for sparing Anders and had refused to participate in the final battle, instead leaving to help anyone he could escape the horror of Kirkwall and they hadn’t seen him since. He didn’t answer their letters but rumours said the Prince was quickly gaining fame in the north.

She learnt that both of Hawke’s siblings had died – Carver had died first and Bethany hadn’t survived to become a part of the Circle.

But most she spoke of Isabela, with the kind of warmth and fondness that Alek both envied and loved at the same time. She told stories, some which Alek had experienced through the television screen, stories she hardly dared to make a sound through should she miss the slightest details. 

Isabela who had fled with the book but returned because Hawke had become her friend. 

“You should see her hat,” Merrill laughed and took out a photo with a black and white photo of Isabela clutching a large, extravagant hat to her head as the wind whipped around her. 

-

It didn’t appear to be any of her playthroughs at all. 

Alek didn’t want to admit how much it _hurt_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Na via lerno victoria - tevene for "only the living know victory"


	7. Welcome To My Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Brother is watching you.

“Better,” Cassandra said approvingly as Alek yanked her shield up, dancing backwards instead of lunging towards her. 

Alek bit back a snarl, managing a grin instead as she twirled the sword like one of her knives, just much bigger. 

She had never fought with shield and sword before, she was living in the 21st century, not the dark ages. But knives were common in their business since guns were loud and drew attention. Small knives hidden in boots, larger ones strapped to arms or to her thighs, occasionally big ones tied along her spine for easy access. She even had a small needle under her skin on the inside of her wrist for emergencies. 

She’d been trained to handle them. She knew how to work a whip as well, small tools to cause maximum pain, knew how to make anything within reach into a weapon, to break flasks and shove corkscrews into soft skin. 

That had been her expertise – her desperation and sheer cunning in the art of survival when pressed to the limit had made her valuable.

But this – what Cassandra was teaching her – wasn’t just about hurting. It was about fending off your opponent, to protect yourself and put yourself out of their reach, to make an impenetrable wall to strike out from. 

There wasn’t talk about not-killing your opponent or anything like that – but Cassandra shoved her how to bash her shield, to knock her opponent out, to keep safe. 

To make her movements more controlled and less feral. 

“Discipline!” Cassandra would shout at her as her back curled to crouch and she’d give herself a rough shake and shove down the monster in her belly. 

Cassandra showed her how to move her feet, how to swing her sword, how to parry, and then attacked her over and over again, challenging the monster inside of her. 

She raised her shield, crouching to take the force of the woman’s blow, her muscles straining but she grinned as she shoved back, moving forward to strike and-

The Seeker struck her feet from under her and she landed on her back with a yelp. 

“Боже you’re good,” Alek panted as she allowed the Seeker to pull her up.

“You get too confident,” Cassandra clasped her shoulder, “you lash out at the first opening and fail to consider how good your opponent is.” Despite her words there was warmth in her eyes.

“Perhaps I have never fought someone with your kind of skill before.” Alek teased. “It’s not every day one goes head to head with a dragon hunter.” 

Cassandra made a noise of disgust. “Who told you about that?”

“Word gets around.” Alek wasn’t about to say the woman herself had told her in a video game.

“It hits me,” Cassandra said as they unloaded their training weapons and padded clothes to find some food, “that I do not know much about you.”

“Oh?” Alek raised a brow, brushing her hands off on her pants. “What would you like to know?”

“Anything you’d be willing to share.”

“I’ll trade ya,” Alek said happily, her Russian accent creeping thickly into her voice, “I’ll tell you a bit about myself, and you’ll tell me something about you.” 

“Deal.” 

“I spent my first years with my parents, no fellow siblings. They were good to me, from what little I remember, but died before I turned eight. I think… I think my parents handled livestock because I remember a lot of sheep…” she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “There was this one, an old craggy one I called Cotton, don’t laugh-“ Alek admonished when Cassandra’s mouth twitched, “I remember following her around and my parents sighing at me for being their lost little sheepling.” 

“You must have lived just outside Kirkwall then?” 

Alek belatedly remembered she’d claimed to have grown up Kirkwall and nodded along with the excuse. “Yeah.” 

“I grew up with my brother after my parents were killed for attempting to overthrow King Marcus Pentaghast. When I was twelve I was sent to the Seekers of Truth and left all of that behind me.” 

“What about your brother?” Alek dared to ask, despite knowing that she had never managed to get the Seeker to tell her in the game.

Cassandra pursued her lips. “That is a topic for another day.” She said. 

“I never had a sibling but I did have a friend, Leah, who helped me through a rough time,” more like, slapped some sense into her when everything got too much, “she’s also the one who made me my bike,” again, stolen, “after she overdosed.” It had been a stupid, stupid accident and it had absolutely destroyed Francis who had spent years pining after her.

“I am sorry,” Cassandra frowned, looking sincerely regretful. 

“It’s okay,” Alek waved her hand, “point I was trying to make is that, shit happens and it sucks and sometimes we can’t do anything about it but keep taking one day at a time.” 

“Life philosophy of yours?” The older woman hitched a brow. 

“Something like it,” Alek nodded. “Just, you know, you’re not alone.” Her ears grew red and she looked away, missing the soft smile of the other.

“Do you believe in the Maker?” Cassandra asked her.

Alek tilted her head. “My parents believed in Jesus Christ who sacrificed himself for human sins only to rise again after death to be with his father, God in heaven, the creator of man. They had a whole book about it, letters and stuff, I admit I never took to it – but there was this character, Judas, I couldn’t forget about.” Cassandra listened curiously. “He loved Jesus, some argue that he loved him as a brother, some as one might a lover, but as Jesus fame grew and his arrogance did as well, it was Judas who finally sold him to his enemies for silver coins and betrayed him with a single kiss.” Alek paused outside the tavern, looking up at the other. “I always found it ironic, that the man who loved God’s son the most would be the one to sell him out. He later hung himself for his sins. But… I always felt for him; he who had believed Jesus to be much better than he became and couldn’t stand for him to be less than he could be. That mortality and love always fascinated me more than any gods and when I was younger I used to light a candle for him.”

Alek scratched the side of her neck in embarrassment. “I suppose the imperfection of man always interested me more than any Gods.” 

“But you agree something exists?” Cassandra opened the door and Alek followed along. 

“I don’t deny it.” Alek corrected. “It’s a wide unexplored world, who knows?” 

“As good an answer as any,” Varric agreed loudly and Alek watched the Seeker twitch with amusement. “Good morning Seeker, Ginger,” the dwarf said cheerfully. “I am so glad to see that the Seeker is trying to kill someone else for a change.” He raised his mug in a toast. 

“ _Varric,_ ” the Seeker snarled out and the tone must have been enough because he threw his hands up.

“Just sayin’,” the dwarf said innocently. “Why don’t you two join us.” He gestured grandly for the table where Lace Harding and Sera were keeping him company.

They did so, the Seeker with clear reluctance. They flagged Flissa down and got some hardy stew with bread thick with butter and some kind of berry smear that smelled vaguely like raspberries. 

Alek sniffed it curiously before taking a large bite. 

Anthony had never fed her well and she’d often stumbled through a cloud of dizziness and hunger when he’d gotten into one of his moods. She’d come to rely on microwave food and the greasy food Francis sometimes ordered home when she wasn’t chewing down whatever was on sale.

Anthony had often taken great pleasure in having her sit by his feet, feeding her scraps from his plate.

But the food in Skyhold was simple and hearty, nourishing, and Alek had started gaining weight. Or rather, she was gaining in muscle mass because of all the training and since food wasn’t limited she was doing it with speed. 

She still wasn’t anything impressive to look at but it was clear that Cassandra knew what she was doing.

The bread was still warm from the oven and she ate with large bites, listening as she chewed and occasionally butting in or answering a question or another.

“Y know,” she said, spooning the last bit of nug meat into her mouth, “I had a friend who used to tell me the most outrageous stories Mr. Story Teller, I think you’d have been quite taken by him. His name was George Lucas and man, the stories he told us…”

“Tell me about it.” Varric challenged, looking curious. 

Alek rolled up her sleeve, poking at one of the first characters she’d even fallen in love with. “Before I tell you about Leia, I have to tell you all about _space_.”

-

So far, avoiding the Commander was sort of working.

Sort of, because the Templar had sought her out and descended on her like some great vampire after she stepped out of Leliana’s office to run some business.

“Aleksanteri, was it?”

He was wearing his full armour, as if he took pride in looking like a great lion looming over them, waiting to slaughter them like sheep.

Alek was simultaneously terrified and angry beyond anything else and the monster clawed its way through her even as she shoved it down desperately, trying to focus on what Cassandra had taught her as she locked her eyes past his shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’ve been running errands for Leliana lately.” Fact. Had he been watching her? 

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve also seen you with Dorian.”

“He’s my friend, sir.”

He hummed, looking her slowly up and down, as if judging if she was a threat.

“Then we have something in common.” He said the words lowly, letting them linger between them. “You see, Dorian is my friend too and I wouldn’t want to see anything happen to him.”

A threat. 

Was he-

He was threatening her. 

He was threatening her.

 _The Templar_ was _threatening her_

“Dorian is my friend, _I_ wouldn’t do anything to hurt him!” She snapped, glaring. 

“I never said you would,” he said, infuriatingly calm. 

“You implied,” Alec gritted out. “Don’t try and play games with me, _Templar_.”

“Games? You think my friend’s safety is a game!?” He demanded. “You come from nowhere with your strange contraption and ugly tattoos, you waltz in here and immediately charms the Inquisitor and then you make friends with Dorian, Varric and Cassandra – even Leliana likes you.” He took a threatening step forward. “Don’t think for a moment I don’t see what you’re doing.” He growled. “I’m watching you.”

He gave her one last threatening glare before stalking off. 

Alek sunk to the ground, clawing at her chest where a great abyss had opened to swallow her up.

I’m watching you.

I’m watching you.

I’m watching you.

 _I’m watching you, котенок._  


-

Alek rolled over and vomited over the middle-girl in the tent for the night, her screams and then the other’s screams as she was woken by arm flailing and vomit splattering ringing inside of her head in tandem with the ones from her nightmares. 

Distantly she was aware of her tent-mates cursing her out and air rushing in to cool her feverish body as they stumbled outside, but she couldn’t focus past the roar inside her head. Eyes wide and unseeing, mouth opening and closing as she desperately sucked air down her lungs. 

The brand on her face felt like it was _burning_ and she clawed at it, wanting it _gonegonegone_. 

_”So much pain, he’s hurting you,”_ the voice murmured, “I want to help – how can I help-? Yes-“

Alek clawed her cheek bloody.

_She was ten years old and digging through the trash, nothing more than ribs and knobbly bones when a knife pressed against her throat. "I've been watching you, котенок-“_

_The green swallowed her up and she was screaming, gurgling as black sludge poured down her throat-_

_He was holding her down, laughing as she struggled. She was so small and he so big, dwarfing her, and she hated his smile so much – the smell of him, his disgusting hands touching every inch of her skin and she wanted to _kill him_ as his tongue dragged up her spine, laughing, “I love it when you struggle, котенок-“_

_Her jaw gaping open, and the_ green-

 _She was twelve years old and tied to the floor as Anthony lowered the needled to her face. "Just to make sure you know who you belong to, котенок-"_

“Easy,” a voice and a hand catching hold of hers and pulling it away from her face. 

She stared into a face she recognised but couldn’t make sense of. She opened her mouth but all that escaped her was a whine of distress.

-

When Cole burst into his room in the middle of the night babbling and tugging at his hand Solas didn’t know what to expect. 

He caught her hand and pulled it away from her face, hushing her gently when she whined. He frowned and waved a hand over her eyes but she didn’t notice, stuck inside her own mind. 

Whatever horrors her mind had conjured had sunk its fangs deep. 

Cole hoovered anxiously over his shoulder, frowning, and Solas wondered when these two had gotten acquainted. 

A question for another time. 

Solas recognised her – he’d seen her in the library and occasionally with Dorian. Like most he’d noticed her because of the mark on her face and the colourful characters sticking up past her tunic despite her best effort to hide them.

Considering the way she’d clawed half her face open there was probably a story behind it.

“Cole, go fetch Dorian, please.” The boy turned and disappeared. 

Edging closer Solas searched his mind for her name but came up with nothing. Deciding it didn’t matter he snapped his fingers by her ear, pleased that she was aware enough to flinch from the noise.

“Da’len, I need you to focus on me – ssssh,” he kept his voice soft and calm as she whimpered. “You are safe. You are in your tent in Skyhold. My name is Solas – I have sent Cole to fetch Dorian and he will be here any moment.” He repeated the same mantra over and over. “You are safe,” he said as she trembled, staring blankly past him, “you are safe.” 

He reached out with his magic to try and soothe her but it seemed to slip right over her and his brows rose as he made a second attempt with the same result. 

How… curious.

Dorian swept into the tent, wrinkling his nose at the smell of fresh vomit, but his focus was entirely on the girl as he sunk to his knees before her. 

“What happened?” He demanded softly. 

“Cole felt her distress and came to fetch me.” Solas murmured softly back. “A nightmare, a bad one, probably bad memories.” It was nothing the other mage hadn’t observed himself but Solas would help any way he could and Dorian was clearly distressed and needed some stability. “She reacted to outside stimuli but I can’t get her to look at me.” Dorian grasped at the straw and slowly inched forward.

“Alek, love?” He reached out but she flinched back, pressing herself against the heavy clothe of the tent. Dorian jerked but determinedly didn’t withdraw. “It’s Dorian. I’m your friend. Hey,” this time he clearly telegraphed his movement and terrified eyes dilated to the extreme focused on his hand. “I am not going to hurt you,” he sounded physically pained to even have to tell her those words, “I am your friend. You are safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He swallowed. “Anthony,” she flinched, “can’t hurt you, I won’t let him. You are safe with me.”

Her mouth opened and closed and her next breath was interrupted by a shuddering sob of desperation. “He’ll find me,” she choked, “he’s watching me. Why won’t he leave me alone?” She demanded desperately. 

“Oh darling,” Dorian laid his hand on her shoulder and though she tensed she didn’t draw back. 

Dorian stared into her messed-up tear-stained face, her clothes wet with blood and vomit, and didn’t know how to fix her. 

He drew her into his arms and closed his eyes as she struggled, just holding her closer, and soon she collapsed against him, grasping onto his tunic and desperately burying into his arms. “Oh darling,” he repeated as she gasped noisily, whimpering and trembling.

“Do you need me to get something?” Solas whispered.

“Water,” the tevinter mage whispered back, “some bandages, bread.” Solas nodded, promising to be right back.

Dorian curled up as best as he could and prepared for a long night.


	8. Leah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend is a creature that will always carry a piece of your heart (talk abour robbery).

Alek didn’t often let herself contemplate the what if’s in her life. She suspected it might have broken her entirely on those dark days where she laid listlessly in bed and the only thing that got her out of it was the knowledge that not doing so would result in some kind of inventive punishment. And even that wasn’t enough some days.

But thing was that some days she couldn’t help herself. Especially when she was younger and just realizing the cruelty of the man who had picked her off the street and put a collar around her throat.

She spent her childhood barefoot with snared hair and dirty clothes, running free in the forest, climbing trees and digging for berries, mushroom and roots to eat. Her parents hadn’t been rich but they had wanted good for her, paying for all she needed to go to school and letting her run wild instead of helping out in the farm as some of the other children had to do.

Her father would stroke her over her head and tell her to study hard so she could grow up to be a lawyer or a doctor. And her mother would spend hours with her every week struggling to help her with the numbers and words. Alek remembering walking down one night and seeing her parents over her books, sounding out words and working through them weeks ahead of her to be able to help when she asked for it.

Alek had loved her parents with everything she was. It was a distant memory, and she only barely remembered that _feeling_ , but she knew she had loved them.

Their death had been sudden – one day she’d woken up in the bed they shared, covered in their blood. They had curled around her as they had every night to keep her warm and the burglar mustn’t have seen her. But they’d slit the throat of both her parents and taken everything that was of value in their tiny house -which wasn’t much.

She’d woken with the bed wet, thinking that perhaps the roof had leaked again – 

Both her parents still looked so still and relaxed even in their death and she’d shaken them and pleaded with them to wake-up. But Alek had seen them slaughter sheep – she knew death. And it had followed her close that night as she fled into the woods, soon growing weak and feverish in the autumn cold, howling towards the sky with snot and tears running down her face.

She wondered what would have happened hadn’t the burglar taken their lives as a precaution. If they’d just slinked inside and taken what they’d wanted. Alek imagined her parents waking up and defending themselves – or saying that to take whatever they wanted as long as they were allowed to live – 

What if-

What could have been-

If only-

Childhood dreams. 

She was nineteen and she’d voluntarily killed and torture at the command of her own tormentor to avoid punishment. Because she was weak and cowardly. She’d taken the life of children younger than she was when she fled her house after her parent’s death and drowned her guilt in drugs and alcohol to make it bearable. 

She was just as much of a monster as Anthony. She just pretended her devil horns didn’t exist while Anthony wore his proudly, like a crown.

Coward.

It had defined her entire life.

Coward.

Fleeing her parents’ home.

Coward.

Murdering under the command of the man she hated.

Coward.

Keeping her head down and mouth shut.

Coward.

Coward.

_Coward._

Karma, Francis had laughed once as she attempted to stitch the gaping wound in her thigh shut with dental floss and a hooked earring. She’d glared at him over her shoulder, fourteen years old and all knobbly limbs, and told him to shut his mouth. 

It had earned her a black eye and halved portion but she focused on the pain and hunger to keep herself from focusing on the truth: that her soul was so rotten she deserved it.

But some days she couldn’t help but think _what if- ?_

What if her parents had lived and she’d grown-up to become a famous doctor, saving lives instead of taking them. She would have bought her parents a large house and the only sheep they would have to keep would be pet sheep. Maybe they would have cats, maybe even a dog – a large one that would demand long walks each day. And they’d have books and a TV with all the channels in the world, and fancy phones they could play games on. 

She’d buy herself and Xbox and a PlayStation, a fancy computer and all the games. Perhaps she’d even buy an Oculus Rift. She spied over Francis shoulder when he watched Let’s Play’s on the computer and gaped as they swivelled around, screaming as monsters appeared right before their eyes.

And they’d have food and never a day would they go hungry. Warm coats and thick boots and fancy scarves and jewellery that glittered with wealth. 

Dreams.

In the end, it was nothing but dreams.

She was in a video game, in a world she didn’t understand surrounded by characters that day by day were becoming more alive and complex and it _terrified her_. 

She would never own an Xbox or a fancy phone. She would never watch another television program in her life and she would spend the rest of her life hiding her body, constantly looking over her shoulder. All she owned were the clothes on her body and what scattered gathering fit into her bag. 

She didn’t have a home and the moment the Inquisition was done – what then?

She felt just as lost as she had after her parent’s death, thrown to the wind, scrambling to just get through one day into the next. 

Blinking awake, exhausted, eyes crusted from sleep, nails crusted with blood from her ruined face, Alek felt empty. Completely wrung out, like a dirty dishrag thrown to the trash. 

For a moment she just stared emptily in front of her and it took her a good moment to realize half her face had been wrapped up in bandages which was why half her vision was black with darkness. Her body felt like she’d been running for days, everything ached and she could barely move a toe.

“’ove?” She didn’t even flinch, slowly turning her head to blink her good eye at a familiar dark face and worried eyes. “Alek?”

“Dorian?” She whispered back, feeling like she’d woken from the worst drop in history. Her mouth tasted like ash and old vomit, dry and torn. When a cup of water tilted against her mouth she drank reflexively. It was an old dance – when she was in a bad mood, Leah would just dump the entire mug over her face and leave her to her fate, but when Alek was too out of it she’d grouchily, though gently, helped her.

“I miss Leah,” she told Dorian.

Sometime, during the night, Dorian must have tired of the tent because they were back in his room and she was wrapped in a thick blanket on top of his bed in his lap. 

“I know, darling.” She tilted nose against his throat, breathing his scent and he stroked her hair gently. “Tell me about her.”

So Alek did. 

-

Alek was eleven years old, breathing hard as she glared at her man through dark red hair, thick with clumps of blood and dirt. Her skin was filthy, thick with grime and sweat, and she was naked. She burned with humiliation, fear and anger, her eyes tracking each step of the man who dared to try and claim her. 

Rail thin, her body one large torn bruise, her lip split, blood running from her right ear.

She bared her teeth in a blood snarl and he booted her hard in her skull for her effort.

“Really, Boss – what are you planning on doing with her anyway?” Francis asked, leaning on the back-legs of his chair with a cigarette in his mouth. He was a skinny man in his twenties with hair and beard dyed blue and a thick scarf wrapped three times around his throat. 

“Oh I have plans for her – there’s potential here.” Anthony stroked a possessive hand over her ruined back and she hissed, trembling as she sunk closer to the floor to avoid his touch. He dug his fingers deep into the wounds and tore deep and hard, chuckling as she cried out.

“Get Leah, will you?” Anthony clamped thickly across the room. He was a hard man, his hair long and blonde, braided down his back, but his face was all angles. His shoulders were broad, his chin scruffed, and there was something… strange about the way he moved. Predatory. “She looks like she’s about to faint.”

Francis looked at the girl half-dead on the floor and his chair clicked down with a thud. “You know,” he said, pausing at the door opening. “If you bite you’re tongue off you’ll be dead in minutes. Just saying.”

Alek breathed hard against the floor, saying nothing.

She must have passed out because when she came to there was an older girl crouching above her, muttering to herself as she half-supported Alek’s body while wrapping it in white. She blinked, yelped, and jerked hard.

The back of her head knocked the girl back hard and focused eyes turned livid.

Her head was slammed down, her arm yanked behind her back and she felt her already funky elbow snap with an odd crunch.

The other paused “Huh.” 

“You fucking broke my arm!?” Alek blinked tears away from her eyes, the shock settling in her like a bad hangover.

“I didn’t mean to.” The other said petulantly. “No one ever tell you to be still?”

“You broke my arm!!” Alek howled back. “No one teach you not to break people’s arms!?”

“It was probably somewhere in there among all the other trash things I sort away to be forgotten.” She climbed off her. “Sit up, and I’ll… wrap your arm, or whatever.”

Alek did so, shivering from the cold in the room. 

She watched as the girl rummaged through a bag she’d brought with her, hating the collar that chained her to the floor that prevented her from the same freedom. 

“Who are you anyway?” Alek muttered petulantly. “Another whore for _him_ to fuck?” She jerked her head, chain rattling.

“Whore, side-dabbling in stitching people up and making computers sing. You may call me Leah.” She fixed a bored look on Alek who bared her teeth. “For someone playing high and mighty you seem to be in a mightily bad situation. Aren’t I glad I’m not you.” She was a rough-spoken girl, tall with broad shoulders. Her head was thick with black curls and her eyelids soft with green against her black skin and her ears jingled with rows of hoops.

“You’re willingly serving that- that _demon_!?” Alek spat out in disgusted confusion. 

Leah threw her head back and laughed. It rumbled in her chest, loud and warm despite the mockery. “Oh you have a lot to learn about this world, critter.” Leah patted her head, like one might a dog. “Good, evil, demons and angels – the only thing that matters in this world is money and power, critter, and Boss pays in spades.” 

“He’s not paying me.” Alek muttered petulantly. “He just hurts me.”

“We all have our place.” Leah finished up the last of the wrapping. “Yours just happen to be under his boot.” 

Alek made a noise. “I’m not an ant. I’m human. What he’s doing to me – that’s wrong.”

“Of course it’s wrong.” Leah agreed easily. “Never claimed it wasn’t. Just said it didn’t matter.” 

Alek squinted at her. “You really don’t care, do ya?” 

“You can’t care in this business, critter.” Leah flickered her nose. “The sooner you learn it, the faster you’ll get out from under that boot.”

She sat down on the floor after a bit of shuffling to find a spot that wasn’t urine or bloodstained. Alek watched her with scrunched brows. 

“So, tell me a bit about yourself.” Leah waved her hand. “Boss has been keeping you completely secret – though, Francis has been hinting obnoxiously about you like you wouldn’t _believe_.” She rolled her eyes. 

Alek stared. 

“Well?” Leah prompted, stretching her legs out. “Got any secrets I should know about? Life ambitions? Dreams?”

“I’m locked up in a madman’s cellar while he torture’s me and you want to know about my dreams?” Her voice went high with disbelief.

Leah pursued her mouth and nodded her head. “Yeah.” She shrugged. 

-

“I didn’t understand why she was doing it, in the beginning.” Alek murmured against Dorian’s throat. “She’d patch me up, mock me, prod me, poke me – but it was the only normality I had in that place.” 

“Love,” Dorian paused and Alek flopped her hand clumsily, finding his and squeezing. “What… exactly set you off yesterday?” Alek froze. “You nearly tore your eye out and half your face look like you’ve dragged it through a cheese grater.”

“Nothing.” She bit out. “It- nothing.”

“Nu-huh, little one, that isn’t working.” Alek made a noise of protest when Dorian poked her ribs. “You’re anxious on a good day, finding you in a vomit filled tent unresponsive – that’s not normal.”

“It’s just… memories.”

“Alek.” Dorian cupped her face. “I’m your friend.” He said warmly, sincerely, his eyes so warm, so honest that Alek felt her resolve weaken. 

“I… I met the Commander yesterday.” Alek mumbled.

“Cullen?” Dorian frowned. “Love, did Cullen do something to you?” He asked worriedly.

Alek shook her head. “He- he was just worried about you and-“

“Aleksanteri.” 

And Dorian looked so serious-

That Alek told him.

-

“Cullen!” He swivelled around, mouth opening just in time for Dorian to slam his hand into his chest and shove him back into his office, door shutting hard behind them.

“Dorian-“ Cullen began in confusion.

But Dorian shoved his hand hard into his chest to silence him. “What,” he demanded, “gave you the right to go after Aleksanteri like an over protective oaf and scare her half to death!?” He demanded. “Do you have _any_ idea of what I had to deal with tonight?” He waved furiously. “It took her _hours_ to get back to herself because you felt like playing big bad Commander!” 

“I-“ Cullen opened his mouth to defend himself.

“She’s a former _slave_ , Cullen.” Dorian spat out, wiping a tired hand over his face and taking a step backwards. “She was already terrified of you since you look like her former _owner_ and you decided that threatening her for making friends was _reasonable_?” Dorian shook his head in disbelief.

Cullen paled dramatically, his mouth opening and closing. “I didn’t know.” He covered his mouth, looking sick.

“Why didn’t you come talk to me if you were worried?” Dorian demanded, deflating. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you.” Cullen said helplessly. “But surely you must see how it looks – her coming from nowhere looking like she does and acting as she do and slowly incorporating herself into the inner circle?” 

“Of course I know how it looks.” Dorian shook his head. “But she’s earned my trust. I know she has her secrets but it’s been _months_ since she arrived here. Give her the benefit of the doubt – our Nightingale is keeping a hawk eye on her and Bull as often as he can.” Dorian gave a rough smile. “We all have secrets, don’t we?” 

Cullen sat down heavily on his desk, sighing deeply.

“I swear I didn’t know.” He repeated. 

“I know you didn’t.” Dorian put a hand on his shoulder. “Which is why you should have come to me first.” 

Cullen frowned down at his hands. “I really look like-“

“Yeah.” Dorian nodded his head. “Blonde hair, dominating, throwing out things like _’I’m watching you’_ like a creep.”

“I’m not creepy.” Cullen denied immediately.

“Of course you aren’t.” Dorian drawled. “You’re adorable, like a big lost puppy – but that’s not how you appear to her.”

Cullen wrung his hands together, feeling sick.

“I told her about you.” Dorian admitted after a long moment of silence. “I said you would never truly hurt her unless she betrayed us or something equally unreasonable.” He waved his hand. “Apparently she heard about your doings in Ferelden?” Dorian raised a brow when Cullen paled further. “Something you want to share?”

Cullen groaned, burying his face into his hands. “I screwed up.”

-

Cassandra spent half an hour waiting for the small redhead to appear before dumping her training equipment and storming up toward Leliana’s tower. 

“Leliana!” 

The Nightingale looked up curiously, waving her henchmen away as Cassandra ate the distance between them with long steps. “Is Aleksanteri here with you?” She demanded, looking around, half-expecting to find her buried in a pile of paper.

Leliana leaned back in her chair, folding her fingers together. “No, she’s not supposed to be here until nine.”

Cassandra’s frown deepened. “She didn’t arrive for morning training.” 

Leliana straightened. “No?” She tilted her head. “Have you asked Dorian? They’re usually thick as thieves.” 

Cassandra nodded sharply and turned to leave.

“Cass.” The Seeker paused, turning back towards her friend. “What do you think about Aleksanteri?”

“What brought this on?” She demanded, hitching a brow. 

Leliana tapped her lips thoughtfully. “I’m thinking about sending her out in the field.” She admitted. “She’s clever and she’s taken to your training like a nug to a truffle.” 

“Are you thinking about bringing her in fulltime?” Cassandra frowned.

Leliana shook her head. “I’ve thought about it.” She said. “But she stands out too much to make a good spy. But she’s versatile and in some matters, it pays to stand out.” 

“You’re planning something,” Cassandra said dryly. 

“Obviously,” Leliana agreed breezily.

Cassandra thought it over. “She’s still prone to violence,” she said slowly, “but it’s not necessarily bad – she’s much more controlled and she’s not keeping to herself anymore which means she’s finding stability here.” She side-eyed her friend. “Whatever you’re planning, she’s up for it.”


	9. Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror, mirror on the wall... luv.

Leliana put the scroll down with a sigh, rubbing her chin tiredly as she turned her attention to the dark sky outside. It had been hours since Dorian stepped by to tell her Aleksanteri wouldn’t be available for the day and it hadn’t taken her long to press the mage for all the details. 

She was… perturbed. 

What Dorian told her had already confirmed the theory she had, though it left much to dwell on too. Who had the girl served? How did she end up in the middle of nowhere? Was she still serving her old Master or was she an escaped slave? 

Leliana leaned towards the last option but she hadn’t become the spymaster of the Inquisition by playing it safe. 

That said, she actually found herself liking the girl. 

She was quick and eager to learn, didn’t slack and once she’d loosened up a bit, she’d turned out to be quick in her mouth as well. It was like luring the shyest of nugs from a dark cave with wet truffles. Slow work but rewarding.

It didn’t explain her tattoos. 

Cullen had already confronted her with his worries about her being a blood mage, that the characters were some kind of strange demons – Leliana honestly didn’t know. They were arguably strange, but dangerous? 

And then it was the whole thing with magic sliding right over her. 

She’d been surprised when Solas stopped by on her level but she understood his concern and shared it. Even dwarves were just resistant; they weren’t – they couldn’t just shake magic off like that. Solas had said it was as if she wasn’t there, as if the magic just slid past her.

It left her with a lot of questions and worries.

She had met Hawke’s companion Fenris briefly but Aleksanteri’s tattoos didn’t look like they were made with lyrium. But that didn’t mean they weren’t or that there was something else behind them. 

The woes of being a spymaster; a million things to contemplate, a thousand to do. 

A low shuffling noise made her look up moments before her door slowly cracked open and Leliana’s eyebrows slowly climbed upwards as Cullen, uncharacteristically slowly, shuffled inside, looking gloomy.

“Commander,” she greeted with a thick curl of her accent. “You are up late.” 

He looked up and she made a soft noise of surprise at the sight of his face. Someone had gotten him good. His left eye was swollen entirely shut and the bruise was wicked and dark, his lip split. 

He touched it self-consciously, managing a nervous smile. “Apparently Cassandra has a wicked punch.” He offered as way of explanation.

“I could have told you that,” she said in amusement, “you must certainly didn’t need to try it out for yourself. What happened?”

He grimaced. “I terrified a former slave girl and Cassandra has a protective streak a mile-wide.”

“Dorian told me.” Leliana leaned her elbow on her desk, supporting her chin. “By your expression I guess he was the first one to chew you out.” 

He tugged a hand through his curls with a nervous frown. “I made a big mistake.” He admitted.

“When you’re suspecting someone of something, it usually doesn’t do to confront them about them so plainly,” Leliana admonished. “I already told you I was keeping an eye on her.”

“And I trust you,” he hurried to say, “I just…” he sighed. 

“You care for Dorian,” Leliana finished softly, enjoying his bright blush.

“He’s my friend,” Cullen said a bit defensively. 

“I don’t blame you for being worried, Cullen, just for the way you handled it,” Leliana gentled. 

She had been right beside Sparrow when they braved the Circle Tower during the Blight. Morrigan had urged them to give him a mercy death but Sparrow had refused and once the demon had been dealt with they had dragged him right back out with them for the Knight-Commander to deal with.

His friends and fellow Templars had all been killed and Cullen had been tortured. He’d begged them to kill all the mages, fearing them to be blood mages in hiding, and he’d refused Morrigan to get anywhere near him, wild with fear and loss. He’d even begged Greagoir to kill them, cursing Sparrow for continuously refusing him.

Leliana had seen him at his worst, knew what he had turned a blind eye to in Kirkwall, but also knew he was working through it. The man before her was a man who strived to be good but old fears and habits didn’t just _disappear_.

Leliana knew that better than anyone. 

He shuffled over and sat down heavily, chair creaking. Under the bruise his face was lined and tired from both lyrium withdrawal and stress. 

Which she knew absolutely nothing about. Of course.

“Considering Cassandra and Dorian both already chewed you out I will let it go this time – but Cullen,” she warned, “don’t go after what is mine.” 

She hid a smile behind her hand when he sunk down with a thunk against her desk and a loud groan.

-

Cassandra had swept into the room like an avenging angel, her knuckles bruised and a stormy frown on her face that had vanished the moment she laid eye on Alek curled up like a tiny kitten, hair ruffled over her bandages and drowned in the heavy blanket, sipping a warm cup of tea.

Dorian managed to steal the cup before Cassandra swept the smaller woman into a hug. With a grin he backed out of the room, closing the door silently behind him.

Cassandra’s hand was heavy on the back of her head, pressing the good side of her face against her shoulder. Alek blinked owlishly against the leather, something soft and entirely foreign curling in the depth of her gut and she slowly encircled the other, breathing in her scent as she pressed closer, the blanked pooling down around her.

She released her, immediately cupping her face to look her over with a frown of worry as she gently thumbed the bandage.

“It looks worse than it is.”

Cassandra snorted, releasing her, something akin to fond exasperation in her eyes. “You said the same the first time I broke your nose.” 

“It’s the truth.” Alek pouted. “I didn’t even bruise that time.” 

“That time, she says,” Cassandra shook her head. “I hit Cullen.” She admitted. 

Alek’s mouth dropped open. “You did what?” She squeaked.

Cassandra scowled. “It was a thing of the moment.”

Alek stared at her.

Then slowly, her mouth twitched and she slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle a desperately giggle, soon snorting with laughter, her face simultaneously scrunching from pain and laughter.

“My hero,” she managed between giggles.

Cassandra’s embarrassed flush just set her off again.

-

Alek yawned, blinking against the moon, sniffling a bit as she breathed in the scent of warm honey tea Dorian had shoved in her hand before leaving for a new mission. 

From her position she had excellent view over the courtyard and in the distance she spied the Herald and his companions saddling up. Dorian, Varric, Blackwall and Solas were all with him on their respective steeds and Sera was walking beside them, clearly taunting Solas judging by the strut in her steps.

Vivienne had returned from a long mission hours earlier and Alek had spied her elegantly gliding off her horse and immediately vanishing into Skyhold before she could take a closer look.

She had been sitting on the wall for most of the day, enjoying the sun and getting an exasperated eye roll from Dorian before the mage smeared something thick on her visible cheek and left her to it.

It was only nearing dinner time but it was already getting colder and the sun was climbing down and the two moons becoming visible on the sky.

Skyhold was alive with movement, the great courtyard stretching out, filled with tents inside the large walls. Templars, Mages and smallfolk alike dodging in and out to do their business. Steam rose from the large bathhouse, the air thick with the smell of dinner.

The Inquisition served grit and bread and stew depending on the day to its workers. For an extra coin you could get something extra fancy from the tavern and that’s where Alek had quickly picked up the habit to eat. Both for the company but also for the mead and bread with fancy smears of berries and fruit, the stews thick and hearty with both meat and veggies. The grit filled with nuts and sweetened with honey. 

Dorian had pressed her to talk more but Alek had clamped shut like a clam, feeling like she had spilled far too much, and the tevinter mage had finally resigned himself to her silence. 

Instead she had spent some days listening to him chat about all and everything, from growing up a mage in tevinter so slowly opening up about his interest in men and how shameful it was for someone of his status. He spoke about the society, the things he missed, books he’d enjoyed and books he would never read again.

And he spoke about being a tevinter mage in Ferelden, about his companions, about playing chess with Cullen and late night research with Solas. And he spoke about Kaaras and Iron Bull with the kind of hushed uncertainty that came from a life having to hide what he was but with growing boldness after cups of wine as they curled up before glowing embers in the dark of his room, giggling and bumping shoulders together. 

In return Alek spoke about safe things; like her first crush on a pretty Comanche woman with skin that glittered like red sand beneath the sun and who’d regarded her with patient amusement as she stammered through her confession, cheeks aflame, and who’d been her first kiss in the alleyway behind a donutshop. 

She had been put to bedrest for a couple of days and Dorian had kept her company through them but it felt great to be out of the confinement and back in the fresh air.

She still felt a bit off from her episode but her wounds had mostly healed and tomorrow she would be removing her bandages, take a look at what damage she’d managed to inflict on herself, and get back to being of use.

She wasn’t some weak damsel, it had been foolish to let the Commander get under her skin and she wouldn’t let it happen again.

She wouldn’t.

She had never lost control of herself so thoroughly before and it was terrifying. Scratching her arms up was bloody but she kept her nails trimmed and the damage was always superficial. Even biting her wrist was something she’d done for ages and it was so thick and scarred that it barely hurt anymore.

She knew her body but scratching her face open – nearly tearing her eye out – that was new.

She sipped her tea in quiet contemplation.

“I hear you are getting back to work tomorrow,” Leliana’s smooth Orlesian accent curled around her like an old friend and she looked up startled as the older woman stretched out beside her.

“I wanted to return earlier but Dorian insisted I rested up.”

Leliana hummed. “He is a clever man; you make good to listen to him.”

“He’s a worrywart,” she smiled down at her tea, “but a good friend.” 

Leliana regarded her thoughtfully. “I have a mission for you in the Emerald Graves,” she said suddenly, and Alek inhaled her tea wrongly, coughing. 

“What?” She rasped out, startled. “You’re sending me away?” 

“I’m sending you along with the Inquisitor and his party next time,” Leliana corrected. “I have been contacted by someone who has information I want but they’re refusing to come to Skyhold and will not write the information down and risk having it intercepted. They only speak Orlesian which is why I need you for this mission.”

Alek narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “You make it sound like you don’t even know who this person is.”

“I don’t,” Leliana agreed pleasantly. “I’ve spent months tracking them down and even know I know very little.” Only months with the older woman allowed her to realize that Leliana was clearly vexed by the little information she had.

“So how do I recognise them?” She kicked her legs, heels bouncing against the wall, unable to resist poking her. “I mean, if you don’t know their name or how they look or anything really.” Leliana twitched. “How in the world am I supposed to find them?” 

“You won’t.” 

“What?” Alek raised an eyebrow. 

Leliana slowly looked her up and down and raised a single eyebrow in response. 

“… You’re joking.”

-

Alek had taken over Dorian’s room while the other was away. Apparently her ex-bunkmates were far from happy with her and she’d been kind of unceremoniously kicked out without realizing it until she tried to retreat back after the mage left.

None too keen on dealing with the entire mess Alek had shrugged and decided that Dorian could deal with finding her half-naked in his room on his return. Better yet, maybe he wouldn’t return at all but move into Kaaras fancy room and Alek would keep it all for herself.

Hey. A girl could dream, yeah. 

To be honest, Alek worried a fair bit about Dorian. Poor guy was only just coming to terms with being allowed to be open with his sexuality and she didn’t want it to backfire on him.

She didn’t think he’d react well to it.

And if it was something she was becoming overly invested in it was Dorian.

She didn’t know how they’d come from the fateful meeting on the plains months back to this warm friendship that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced in her life. He teased her, looked after her – and didn’t do it because she happened to be there but because he actively sought her out.

They joked and bantered, shared secrets, drank together and giggled and bemoaned together in equal measure.

She often had to catch herself from saying too much and waving away strange words and expressions with weak jokes and great chagrin. Because a part of her, a growing part, was trusting Dorian in a way she troubled understanding.

She groaned against his pillow, sniffling the smell of perfumes and oils.

Really, she berated herself, the man probably though her mad already, no use making it worse. 

What was she supposed to say? Yeah, sorry Dorian – I’m from another world entirely and would you look at that! That’s your face on my leg. How remarkable. 

Yeah.

No.

Bad idea.

The worst. 

Not happening.

Ever.

She couldn’t picture a scenario where that would go down well _ever_. If they didn’t kill her on the spot there would be torture and everyone would he unhappy and Dorian would never trust her again and – 

And.

Alek would sooner rather die than hurt Dorian.

She thought back on the Commander and frowned. Dorian had made his outmost best to try and comfort her and tell her he would never do anything like it again but it didn’t ease her mind at all. She couldn’t forget Origins and the Commander crying out for the death of innocent lives simply because he was angry and afraid.

Men like the Commander terrified her.

She knew that he claimed not to be a Templar anymore but Alek didn’t believe it.

Men like Anthony and the Commander didn’t just give up that kind of power. She had found him unnerving the small bits she’d played of the Inquisition with him constantly pushing for her to recruit the Templars despite knowing that they’d systematically abused mages for ages.

He claimed them to be good men.

If they were good men in the eyes of the Commander, Alek wasn’t sure she wanted to meet a bad man.

She breathed in more of Dorian’s calming scent before rolling to her back to look at the ceiling.

The Commander frightened her.

She didn’t really know what to do with herself when it came to Dorian but she wanted him safe.

He was too good for someone like her.

And while Alek was entirely too selfish to let him go there were other ways to keep someone safe.

-

Despite everything, Cullen’s opinion on the girl hadn’t changed. He knew he had made a rash call – triggering a panic attack… he felt guilty about it.

But it didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything _wrong_ with her. 

In fact, it had only cemented it and he was dead-set on keeping an eye on her. Just… in a friendlier way.

Cullen suspected Dorian might castrate him if he tried anything like cornering her again. But it didn’t mean he’d leave his best friend alone with a girl that could be anything from a blood mage to a demon or enemy mage in disguise. 

He’d overheard Solas report to Leliana and it only made him more sure that there was something very wrong with her.

Whether she was knowingly in on it or just a pawn in the game remained to see but Cullen wasn’t about to leave it to chance. 

The small skittish girl did tug at his heartstrings but he wouldn’t be fooled.

He’d lost his friends to blood mages before.

He wasn’t about to let it happen again.


	10. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heterosexuality is _so_ last season, kids.

Alek thought there had been a severe oversight concerning this whole sending-her-out-on-a-mission business. In fact, Alek thought she was an idiot for not thinking about it herself. 

Alek stared at the horse.

Horse stared back.

The girl who’d handed her the horse had told her to name the thing, that it was now hers to use under the banner of the Inquisition. Alek had never had a beast of her own, ever, and after circling through a good share of Blackie, Lassie, Simba and other famous animals she finally decided that the horse’s name was to be Horse. 

It was a broad thing, tall, its coat spotted grey and its tail and mane black. She tilted her head and peered beneath the thing.

 _Her_ name was Horse.

Or was there such a thing as transgender horses? 

… 

Their name was, either way, Horse now and Alek was supposed to be in charge of it. Ride it, rub it down after the ride, feed it and make sure it didn’t spontaneously combust during their trip to the Emerald Graves. 

Brilliant. 

She hadn’t ever ridden in her life. Perhaps she’d sat on a sheep when she was younger but that was years and years ago. 

“Hello,” she said to Horse. “I guess, we’re gonna be… acquaintances?”

A snort alerted her to the fact that Iron Bull had snuck up behind her and she turned her head awkwardly to peer up at him. 

“To ride it you actually need to be on it,” he said and before Alek could say a word she found herself hoisted into the air and onto its back. She squeaked and moulded herself against its back like a monkey.

Bull clicked his tongue. “Really.”

“Yes, really!” Alek could feel Horse’s strong back beneath her, a living force beyond her control and it terrified her. This was nothing like those first weeks when she’d been half-convinced it was all some sort of strange dream and clinging to Dorian’s back. 

This was real. Real, real, real. 

Iron Bull prodded at her until she reluctantly sat straight in the saddle. He poked at her knees until they loosened and hummed. “Remember what I told you about riding the first time we met?” 

Alek aimed a blind kick at him and he caught it with a huff.

“Fuck the horse,” he reminded her, installing her feet into the stirrups.

“I’m not gonna-“ she drew a sharp breath when he settled one large hand on her back and one of her stomach.

Horse must have been in on it because with a click of Iron Bull’s teeth they took a few step forward and Alek found her rump bumping up with the movement and tensed automatically. “Feel the rhythm,” Bull lifted her with the movement and Alek forced herself to trust his hands as he guided her with the horse’s movement, feeling the bounce as it trotted. 

He released her and led Horse in a slow circle by the reins, correcting her when she slouched or got too tense. He showed her how to hold the reins, how to make it stop and turn.

She looked up and found Cassandra and Leliana watching her and flushed.

She’d been given new outfit and the blue well-worn leather coat hung down the side of horse’s rump. A thick shirt, wool mittens and socks stuffed inside knee-high boots. On the back of her coat the eye of the Inquisition stood in stark white. 

Dorian had helped her pack – saying that it would get colder before it got warmer.

The two leaders approached and Bull halted Horse and Alek slid down ungracefully, relieved to be on steady ground again. 

“Sera handed me a bag of pinecones to throw at you in case you get too distracted and try falling off the horse of something equally foolish,” Cassandra smirked as Alek visibly wobbled.

“Hah!” Alek scoffed, “I’ll be the best, you just wait and see.” 

Three disbelieving eyes made her cheeks darken. “Really now, no faith what-so-ever,” she grumbled.

Cassandra ruffled her hair with a laugh and set to fetch her own ride, Iron Bull following along, leaving Alek with Leliana.

“I must apologize,” the older said, her Orlesian a pleasant drawl in the cold morning, “I did not think to ask if sitting up straight on a horse was within your skillset.” 

“Nothing about me is straight – I’m as bent as they come.” 

Leliana hitched a brow and Alek realized her fault immediately. “It’s a saying from where I come from,” she explained, “straight is another word for liking the other gender but I don’t fancy boys, I fancy girls, so I’m bent, not straight – yeah?” She cocked her head.

The older woman laughed. “I like these sayings of yours,” she smiled and dug forth a scroll from pocked. “Look through these tonight and then burn it – if you have any questions you keep it between you and Cassandra.” The older lowered her voice and sought green eyes. “How are you feeling? Nervous?”

Alek shook her head. “I’m excited,” she confessed. “It’s… great here but I want to get out and see more, you know?” She touched her lips thoughtfully. “I’ll miss helping you out thought,” she smiled cheekily. “Who knows what you’ll get up to without me to keep an eye on you.” 

“Ah, you cheeky little nug,” despite her tone there was something soft in her eyes and Alek blinked when warm calloused hands cupped her face and soft lips pressed against her forehead. “Try to get back in one piece.” 

-

Forty minutes into the trip Cassandra _did_ throw a pinecone at her head after she nearly slid out of her saddle for the fourth time.

-

The Emerald Graves was something beyond dreams.

Alek watched as a bee-like creature in red and blue and large rump buzzed curiously around the flower in her hand, finally climbing down into the yawning yellow mouth dotted with pink. She leaned closer, mouth opening into an ‘o’ when the creature’s rump grew and it flaked with silver which it rubbed against the bottom of the flower before it buzzed away, apparently satisfied. 

Around her trees rose high and wide into the sky, stretching towards the sun with wide green leaves. The long grass rustled with life and flowers in all colours crept through the green and yellow straws.

Without meaning to Alek and Horse had fallen behind and she reluctantly urged the beast into a trot to catch up with the others. 

Both Iron Bull and Kaaras rode on top of nuggalopes but Cassandra rode a temperamental stallion that had gotten into its head to keep an eye on Alek’s Horse. He often nipped and buffed at her ride as if telling it to behave whenever Alek got close to slipping of it. 

It wasn’t Horse’s fault Alek’s body hurt from top to bottom, of course, but she wasn’t about to tell that to a horse. 

Dorian’s horse had a fine brown coat and a mulish look in her eyes – as if daring anyone but her pretty rider to get close to it.

Nuggalopes were strange creatures, large pack orientated creatures from what Bull had told her. Apparently the ones he and Kaaras were riding were sisters which made for a strong, protective pair. Alek liked them – they reminded her of sheep, oddly enough, only less fluffy.

Sidling up beside Cassandra she allowed Horse to fall into step under the watchful eye of her stallion.

“Have you already mapped out this area?”

“Most of it,” Cassandra pointed to the west. “The area beyond the river in that direction has been covered entirely and we’re steadily moving on towards the eastern front as well. The man Leliana want you to meet up with is in a town near the east. It’s a fairly old town and it’s likely that the man we’re looking for is one of the locals.” Their eyes met. “Once we reach the town you’re on your own – one of us will remain close, but Leliana was clear that he wanted to meet you on his own and the information is too important to risk.”

Alek hummed. “You’re heading out once we reach camp then?”

“Why, you worried about us?” Dorian said in, falling back on her right. “Or perhaps you’re feeling anxious to be all on your own?” 

“Oh, I’m not worried about you guys – you have the fierce and mighty Seeker to keep you all safe.”  
Alek was looking ahead and missed the Seeker flushing red beside her but Dorian didn’t. Grinning he waggled his eyebrows and Cassandra shot him a look that would have made him burst into flames had she been a mage. “But I am new to this area and I have a tendency to get lost and rather you didn’t find my corpse being nibbled on by an elk.”

Kaaras laughed. “That would be bad indeed.”

“Is that why we found you running from a dragon the first time we met?” Iron Bull teased. 

Alek huffed “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.”

“And here I’ve taken the chance to tell each and every person I’ve come across,” Bull stroked the scruff on his chin. “How bad of me.”

Alek stuck her tongue out. “I was simply… misplaced at the time.” She spun her finger. “Could have happened to anyone, really.”

The rhythmic walk of Horse behind her was exchanged for steady ground as the night approached and they began setting up camp. Alek rubbed down the beasts the way Kaaras had taught her and fed all horses an apple each which she’d nicked off and tree on the way. Saddles were put aside and loose ropes fell around heavy necks with long ropes to allow them to grace.

Alek set off into the woods to pick fallen branches for the fire as the rest rose tents and rolled out bedrolls. They did it with the sort of efficiency that came from doing it a hundred times before and Alek, who had frankly never camped in her life before now, had quickly been delegated to duties that kept her out of the way. 

They had shown her how to do things, of course. Cassandra had made do everything at least once – but it was more effective to have her fetch wood and take care of the horses. She would have made an effort of taking care of the nuggalopes as well but she was too short to even get the saddles off. 

She stretched out her back with a groan and rubbed at her buttocks. 

They had been riding for weeks now and though it still ached and hurt it was getting better the more she got used to it. She was actually starting to feel part of the company.

Smiling to herself she started searching the ground, making sure to look out for snakes, spiders or other likewise critters wanting to sink their fangs into her. Kaaras, who was apparently something of a fanatic, had tried to give her a crash course in what animals, plants and insects were safe and what to look out for, but she didn’t quite trust herself yet.

She paused to watch a fat beetle amble over a branch, admiring its smooth glimmering shell and large pincers. She reached out with her hand and grinned as it ambled into her palm with nary a step of hesitation, pincers clicking. She lifted her hand to her shoulder and let it settle on it as she continued to pick branches, humming to herself.

She returned with an armful and slipped into the middle of the camp. She fished for the clump of dry grass and moss in her pocked and set to making fire come alive. 

Her new friend clicked curiously from her shoulder and ambled down her arm to get closer to the warmth. She poked at it in admonishment and it clicked in annoyance as she shuffled it back with a stick.

“Ah, a purple burb beetle.” Kaaras said in admiration as he crouched down beside her. 

Alek craned her head up to look at him. “That’s its name?” She looked back at it. “Burb, what a name.”

“It’s named after a woman named Burbendin,” Kaaras informed her, lifting the beetle from her shoulder and cupping his hands for it. “She was a beetle fanatic but ironically got herself killed by an especially venomous one.”

“Sounds like she died doing what she loved.”

“I know I’d like to die doing what _I_ love.” Bull plopped down, stretching his aching knee.

“What, fucking?” Alek asked drily. 

“If you wanna ride the bull, all you have to do is ask.” He winked, or at least Alek figured he did. Sometimes it was hard to tell with his one eye.

She glanced deliberately down at his crotch. “Considering the size of you it wouldn’t surprise me if you’re hung enough to actually kill me if you try to get it inside of me.” Iron Bull threw his head back with a roar of laughter and Alek spied Dorian flushing where he was setting up the tent. “Besides, I though you and Kaaras were a thing?” 

“There’s always place for a third participant if it’s the right one.” Kaaras said softly, cheeks red.

Alek cooed. “You are just too adorable.” She pinched his cheek. “Polyamorous relationships for the win.”

“There you go with your strange words again.” Dorian braved the conversation, mussing her hair. 

“I can’t help it you all come from backwater areas where you don’t have proper words for people within LGBT spectrum. I find it a bit horrifying sometimes, to be truthful.” She frowned and held up a lecturing finger. “Monogamy is a relationship between two people while polyamorous are between three or more.”

“LGBT?” Dorian echoed while Kaaras mumbled the word ‘polyamorous’ softly beneath his breath.

“Lesbian, Gay, Bi and Trans. Girls who like girls, men who like men, men or women who like all genders, trans are people who are born in the wrong body – say, a woman born in a man’s body. Then there are those who don’t define themselves as one gender or any gender, or one day feels like a woman and another as a man – and way, way more. Like asexual people who feel absolutely no need for sex, and aromantic people who don’t feel romantic love.” 

“And you have name for all these people?” Cassandra sounded surprised as she kneeled down to feed the fire.

“ _Da_.” Alek agreed. “The village I lived in was very open about this kind of stuff and a wise woman once told me that by giving name to it we make it more real.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “There are still those who feel love between the same genders are despicable. It is sometimes frowned upon and those who seek to live their lives truthfully are spat on and mocked.” She grimaced. “They’re like children, pointing and frowning at something they don’t understand.”

“You should write a book,” Kaaras sounded a bit awed. “Give name to all these different things in the world.”

Alek flushed, realizing they were all looking at her. “Something for after the war, maybe.” She offered.

The sun climbed down to be replaced by the two moons and Alek tilted her head to look at them as she took the first guard for the night. The air still smelt of the stew from dinner, mixing with the smell of smoke and the sound of sparkling fire and soft snores.

She’d exchanged the thick sweater for a thinner one with long sleeves and pulled the coat over it as the night got colder. But once she reached the town she would be wearing special ordered shirts without sleeves to catch the attention of Leliana’s informant.

“It feels like ages ago, doesn’t it?” Alek tilted her head as Kaaras stretched out beside her. 

“What does?” 

“Since we first met.” He clarified, tilting his head to look at the moons. “Bull and Cassandra both spent far too much time watching you puke all that water up by the lake. I tried to tell them that, maybe you had information – maybe you knew something – but they were both firm on the fact that I’d been picking up too many strays, not all of them with success.” He smiled wryly. “You looked so out of place – still do – like a lost puppy.” He reached over and ruffled her hair. “Still, I’m glad you’re here.”

“All it took was a dragon.” Alek lifted the corner of her lip and Kaaras smiled.

“Something like that.” He agreed. “Say, Aleksanteri – you’re close with Dorian, right?”

“He’s my best friend.” She confessed. 

Kaaras touched a thump to his lip thoughtfully. “That word you were saying earlier – poly-“

“Polyamorous.” Alek filled in. 

“Yes, that.” Kaaras agreed. “Is it… is it really that usual where you’re from?”

“Ah.” Alek hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure _how_ usual it really is but we had a name for it, didn’t we?” Kaaras looked put-out by the answer and Alek hesitantly reached out to lay a hand on his shoulder. “I actually knew a pair that was in a fourway relationship.” Alek told him, watching as Kaaras perked up from the corner of her eye. “I only knew one of the four personally.” She admitted. "His name was Hannes and we weren’t close per say but we did speak and he spoke warmly about his married partners.”

“How did they make it work?” Kaaras asked hesitantly. “I don’t…”

“Often hear about people like you?” She finished sympathetically and he nodded. “Hannes was together with a woman and two men. He said… he said it wasn’t always easy. They butted head more than once, about their house, about people they knew and spoke to, little things about who cooked and who cleaned and who topped in the bedroom and other things.” She tapped her knee thoughtfully. “But he also said… that it was those kind of things that made it worth it.” She looked at Kaaras who was watching her avidly. “They were four people who loved each other and wanted to make it work – and the small fights was easier knowing there was always someone to have his back and catch him and keep him close,” she smiled wryly. “At least, that’s how he described it. He said, it was all about finding balance – just like any other relationship. Just less… lonely.”

Silence fell between them as Kaaras mulled over the words.

“Say, Kaaras,” Alek leaned close, her lips against his ear, “how long have you been thinking about bringing Dorian into your _thing_.”

Alek had never seen someone flush so fast and so brilliantly and laughed at the Inquisitors shocked look.


	11. A Life Dɪsˈdʒɔɪntɪd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't get worse before it gets better, luv. It just gets worse, worse, worse.

Alek sometimes wondered if a part of her hadn’t loved Anthony. 

She knew she must have loved her parents, though she couldn’t recall any feeling past the empty sort of loss whenever she thought of them. And Leah – surely what she felt for her must have been love? They had never defined their relationship, and sometimes she hadn’t been sure if Leah regarded her with anything beyond the sort of exasperated care one took to a miserable mutt, but she thought the abject sense of loss she felt couldn’t be because of anything _but_ love.

She had never had anyone look at her and say, “I love you,” and she had never spoken the words aloud either. 

But something… 

Alek ignored the part of her, that dark, miserable, weak piece of her, that had turned a blind eye to her chance of freedom and stayed with Anthony for those moments where things were… good. It was easier to close her eyes and pretend that those moments had never existed.

But why would she have stayed if it weren’t for love?

Those moments when Anthony leaned back in the couch and let his long hair out, sighing as he pulled her into his lap and held her tight. Sometimes he cooked food for them, as Alek sat with her legs dangling by the kitchen table, and as they talked he would laugh that grumbly sort of laugh and his brows wrinkled, as if he was surprised such a happy sound escaped him.

When his hands would touch her without pain, stroking down her back, his lips soft against her neck and shoulder but never going further. Those mornings when he came home bone tired and slumped down exhausted, not moving until Alek hesitantly reached out and he entwined their hands together. Holding onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. 

It was hard not to wonder.

If she hadn’t-

Once.

Maybe.

-

“You have to be the most indiscrete company in the world,” Alek stared at them. “Two qunaris, a tevinter mage and the right hand of the Devine. And then me. And we’re on a stealth mission.” She deadpanned. “I’m frankly surprised you’ve been getting ahead undiscovered so far.” 

The urge to face palm was overwhelming. 

“I thought the only non-stealthy part of this mission would be me.” She folded her arms. “They’ll see you coming a mile away.” 

Long looks were exchanged and she was gratified to see that Kaaras at least looked chagrined. “We’re pretty used to rushing in.” He admitted. “The original plan was to have Dorian stay behind but the recent tevinter raiding’s have left the villagers on edge.” He looked to Iron Bull. “Bull, you stay behind – you’re discreet.”

Alek and Dorian traded looks. Iron Bull side-eyed them. “I’m a spy.” He said a bit drily. “I assure you I know how to blend in.”

“Try to not to get yourself into too much trouble.” Dorian said an hour later as Alek prepared to leave. The sun had just risen – they’d all awoken early to hash out the last bits after the late night report. 

The shirt had been rid of the sleeves entirely and hung loosely on her frame, proudly showcasing her tattoos. She felt more like her old self than she had in months, like she was stepping back into the role of the Aleksanteri who’d been favoured by Anthony – the one who knew how to melt in and execute the mission.

Only… not really. 

“Oh thee of little faith.” Alek pouted. “I am gonna pull this off and you’re gonna be in awe of me.” She poked at his chest. 

Dorian snorted tugged at her hair. “I am already in ‘awe’ of you, little bug.” 

“I am feeling vaguely offended by the ‘little’ part.” Alek bumped her shoulder against his.

Dorian made a show of measuring her height against his shoulder and only Cassandra’s quick reflexes saved him from being pinched in retaliation. 

“Children, behave.” She deadpanned. 

Dorian and Alek shot her identical wounded looks. Dorian gave her a last ruffle of her hair before striding over to Bull and Kaaras, leaving the Seeker and the Otherwordler together, side-by-side. 

Cassandra’s eyes lingered in the fine ink, the colours contrasting against the green of the Emerald Graves behind them.

“You have to tell me the story behind them, sometime.” Cassandra touched the green skin of Poison Ivy, her brow wrinkling at the sultry look of the woman staring back at her. Fine green leaves with minute details crawled over her body and she almost seemed to be inviting the watcher to melt back into the skin with her. She cleared her throat. “You ready?”

“As ready as I can be.” Alek grinned wryly, remembering a time when she’d shied from the touch and eyes of the woman before her.

Cassandra clasped her shoulder and finally, gruffly, pulled her into a one-armed hug. She released her quickly, clearing her throat. “ _камбэк безопасно._ ” She said gruffly and then determinedly strode over to the others. 

Alek stared after her. “ _вы тоже,_ ” she whispered.

-

The village was something akin to a town and bustled with life and movement. Farmers and merchants, stalls open and shouting filling the air. There was a certain cautiousness to it all, because of the war, but people were clearly making an effort to keep up the illusion of normalcy.

Alek could see that someone like her wouldn’t be welcome but, then again, that sort of thing had certainly never stopped her before. 

_Or I’d have to spend the rest of my life confined into a tiny room on my own,_ she thought wryly.

Horse had been left behind by one of the Inquisition camps and Iron Bull was… blending in… somewhere to the east. 

Alek wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that entailed. 

Hoisting her backpack up she fell into the role of an eccentric sellsword looking for a lordling or lady to pay him coin. She’d bound her breasts and Bull had happily thrown her in the dust to rough her up a bit to make the role more believable. A sword hung from her hip and they’d helped her pull on a well-worn chest plate.

Leliana’s missive had given her a brief background as a mercenary by the name Leonidas Trevelyan. The Trevelyan family was large with people spread far and wide and she was to play the son of a far off uncle of the extended family. It was the kind of background that no-one would look twice at. 

-

After circling the town twice Alek finally entered a pub and ordered a beer with a tap of her fingers. The bartender surveyed her with a curl of her lips and a warning frown but served it without a word. Alek placed the money plus some extra and withdrew to one of the tables deeper into the place. 

She had made sure enough people had seen her to get gossip rolling and rather than walking around aimlessly and drawing needless attention she retreated back.

If Leliana’s informant wanted to find her, they would. 

She chugged down half the beer and leaned back with a sigh, shifting to get comfortable with the new mail. It wasn’t unlike her old bulletproof vest, just harder, and it was oddly nostalgic to be sitting in a bar with it. 

She frowned.

She’d never thought it would feel alright to do something she’d done under Anthony. She’d often run drugs for him when she was younger and seduced men and women with the kind of taste that should have put them behind bars. She was used to drawing attention without actually looking like she was trying to draw attention. 

She waved over the server for a bowl of stew, bread and another ale and took her time chewing through it. She was contemplating digging forth one of the books from her bag when someone drew her attention by skulking through the door and consequently drawing the ire of the bartender.

“You know you’re not welcome here, Guo!” The bartender rounded the counter and blocked the man from going further in. “Get out of here.” 

Alek leaned forward to get a better look and caught blue eyes were they quickly averted. “I’m thirsty.” The man mumbled.

If anything, the bartender only looked more furious and took a threatening step forward, frightening the man named Guo who stumbled back and out, deliberating before going right. Alek allowed a good eight minutes to pass before she scraped the bottom of the bowl clean and hefted her bag along and leaving a scattering of coppers on the table.

It darkening to a pleasant summer night and the air buzzed with small insects and the smell of burning fires as the villagers started cooking food for the night which mixed with the wooden smell from the landscape. It was very different from the smell of cold the stinginess of it and she wasn’t snuffling constantly which was a pleasant change.

Stalls were closing up, different families chatting together and Alek listened with one ear to two men bickering between who would host for the evening. Both were loudly insisting on being the one and their partners were watching with fond amusement.

A hand smacked into her shoulder and she jerked around, finding Guo quickly vanishing down the dark alley between two houses. Silently she followed along. 

He walked cautiously, almost jerkily, arms folded to his chest. And he was almost as silent as Alek, treading on the front part of his feet, heels never touching the ground. She followed him into a small threadbare single-room house, automatically cataloguing anything that could be used as a weapon. But there was almost nothing there, just a stove, a table with some parchment and a single chair as well as a bed. 

He shuffled the chair until the back was facing the fall and sat down, staring at her until she hesitantly crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

“You belong to the eye,” he stated, half-asked, Alek wasn’t really sure. 

“Aye,” she agreed, lowering her voice to fill the role of Leonidas. “You are a cautious man.” 

“Only the stupid aren’t,” he said matter-of-factly. 

Her lips twitched. “True,” she agreed. 

He nods, half-twitching. “They think I’m stupid,” his words are clumsy, “I hear-“ he shakes his head. “They are stupid,” he says firmly, with conviction. “They don’t _see_.”

“But you aren’t stupid,” Alek said, “and you see.”

He nods. 

“And you will tell me what they said,” she said. 

He doesn’t look at her but at her arms. “Who is she?” He points at Poison Ivy.

“Ah,” Alek looked down at her tattoo. “Her name is Pamela Isley.” She regards him. “After you tell me what you heard I’ll tell you all about her.”

“And,” he says, “I will draw her.”

“And you’ll draw her,” she agrees.

He nods, pleased. “I like green,” he tells her. 

And then he starts to tell her everything Leliana wants to hear. 

-

Alek was thinking about how much Guo reminded her of Francis big brother when there was a sudden explosion. Guo jerked, clapping his hands over his ears and curling up on his chair, mouth wobbling. Alek spared him a worried glance but had already drawn her sword and quickly moved outside, boots thudding against the ground as she hurried towards the rising screams.

Aleksanteri skidded to a halt, mouth opening in shock at the sight of red Templars marching into the village. Children were told to run, fire was rising and women and men grabbed anything that could be used to defend their town and guards were crying out orders. Alek saw the bartender from earlier armed with a large knife hanging with one arm around the neck of a Templar, the knife buried deep in his guts. 

The red Templars were quickly spreading out, swarming like fire ants into the town, swords drawn. 

Alek drew back, gnawing on her lip. 

She knew that Cassandra would have thrown herself right into the fray and a familiar anger clawed inside of her. But she also knew that the information from Guo needed to reach Leliana’s ears. 

She caught a woman dragging her husbands severed body back and stepped in to intercept the large Templar advancing on them. She snarled as their swords clashed, her toes curling in her shoes as her muscles tensed and she skidded back from the cheer force of the mutated soldier. She dodged and swung, slicing his stomach open and spilling guts as he roared and swung a large arm, slamming her backwards before collapsing as the wife buried her knife into his back. 

Alek swallowed, surprised by the sheer, overwhelming force – it wasn’t unlike facing Iron Bull’s strength and she knew this wouldn’t be very easy at all. 

She dodged down and a sword swung over her head as she slammed her leg up between the man’s legs. Red eyes glared down at her and Alek gasped as a hand yanked her up and twisted to slam her boot into his face with a crunch. A large hand twisted her sword hand and she swallowed back a cry and kicked down, dislodging his jaw – but still the Templar kept going and she dropped it as her arm snapped with crunch.

And Alek realized she probably would have died had Iron Bull not decided to magically appear from absolutely nowhere and she gaped as the entire head crunched into a mess beneath the force of Bull’s hammer. 

“You okay?” 

With her arm cradled to her chest as she stumbled to his side. “What’s happening?” She demanded, gasping. 

“Someone sold us out.” Bull said grimly. “No one should have known we were here – at the very least an army like this.” He met her eyes. “Did you get the information?”

She tapped her head with a grim smile. “It’s all in here.” 

He nodded, swinging around and crushing the ribcage of an advancing soldier. “You need to get out of here.” 

“But-“

“The information.” He gritted out. “Is more important than this village.” 

She wanted to protest but bit it back and nodded sharply. She swallowed and with a lingering glance at Iron Bull’s large shoulders, spun, and set off towards the direction of where they’d left the horses. 

She dodged and weaved, avoiding the spreading fire and swallowing as she bypassed dead people. She knew dead people, was intimately familiar with the effort it took to take someone’s life, and she felt like a coward as she ran instead of taking on the Templars. 

Anger pounded through her as she broke the edge of the town and set off into the forest. Bull had given her the general direction but she knew the chance of accidentally stumbling upon the horses would be impossible. Instead she called loudly for Horse, hoping for any sound, any hint as she swung around, sweating and panting as she moved deeper among the tall trees. The last light had faded and even the fire from the town felt far away as she squinted into the forest. 

But she hadn’t been Anthony’s for nothing. 

A sound in the distance nearly made her weak with relief and she set off towards it, expecting Horse. 

Instead she found Tevinter mages. 

She sunk to her knees, damp with sweat and a hand muffling her breath. Four Tevinter mages were moving towards the burning village on horses and Alek got a stupid, stupid idea into her head. 

She moved soundlessly ahead, creeping low, half-listening to the low conversation between the mages. Placing herself behind the trunk of a thick tree they’d have to pass by she waited until two had passed before darting out and spun, chopping the leg off the third one.

He cried out and the fourth had fire in her hand, mouth opening to shout, but wasn’t quick enough and Alek dug the point of her sword clean through and wrenched it to the side. Her body slid off the sword and onto the grass with a wet thump. 

The two other Tevinters had spun by then to be met by the screams of the bleeding rider and Alek straddling the horse of the dead one. The man was howling, clutching the stump with one hand and clinging the horse with the other.

“Andi!” The first rider gasped. “Rayna!”

“Make it stop!” Andi howled. 

The second rider scowled and bared her teeth. “Dan, take care of Andi.” 

“But Reba-“ 

“NOW!” She snapped, ice curling in her fist as she set off after the horse thief. 

Alek glanced back when she realized she was being pursued and urged the horse to go faster. Even after riding for weeks she tensed at the speed and her heart pounded in her chest, counting blindly on the horse not to ride them into a death as the dark forest swallowed them up.

Ice exploded past her and splitter tore at her face. The horse beneath her whinnied and Alek hunkered down desperately. 

Tugging at the reins she tore the horse desperately in the direction of where she thought their camp was, hoping for some sort of miracle. 

Ice exploded against her back and Alek gasped at the force of the cold slamming into her, nearly sending her clean off the horse. Seconds later ice exploded the ground before them and the horse whinnied loudly, froth at its mouth and eyes blown wide as its legs folded beneath it. 

Alek’s right leg, shoulder and head got the brunt of the force, the weight of the beast snapping her leg and her head slamming against a root with an odd noise that didn’t bode well. 

Her world spun and she cried out as the horse yanked at her leg stuck in the stirrups as it struggled frantically to rise and her already broken leg crunched with a slick sound as the bone broke through the skin.

 _Compound fracture,_ she thought numbly as she yanked desperately at her pants with her good hand least the horse took half her leg with it. Her foot slipped free with another twist of her leg and Alek swallowed back bile as it thumped to the ground and the horse tore into the dark.

The Tevinter mage slid off her horse, a fiendish grin on her lips. “You chose to mess with the wrong people, boy.” 

Alek swallowed and looked back at the woman. “I couldn’t resist messing with such a pretty woman,” she said with false bravado. 

Reba’s mouth curled. “A brave one, huh?” The woman straddled her broken body, gripping her chin with bruising force. “I like a bit of struggle.” She breathed. 

Alek’s world narrowed into pinpricks as clever hands begun undoing her mail, yanking it off. Strong hands stroked from her quivering stomach up her chest to pause at the lumps of flesh hidden beneath. A grin blossomed on her lips. “Girl,” she breathed, “even better.” She licked her lips.

Alek wanted to scream at her but a wretched sort of fear choked her. 

“You know,” Reba said, casually slipping a knife from her boots. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. See. I recognise you –“ she’d torn the knife through her tunic and yanked it open, gasping softly in admiration at the colourful tattoos on her chest. “Would you look at that.” She stroked her fingers over the blue woman curling her scaled body around her left nipple. “You are not a hard person to mistake, you see.” The Tevinter murmured. 

Alek felt a familiar numbness settling over her and she could almost pretend that she was just servicing one of Anthony’s clients as hands begun undoing her belt and crawled beneath the hem to touch her. Rubbing, exploring, trying to draw some sort of reaction from her. 

“I know you work for the Inquisition,” she murmured. “Tell me,” she rubbed small circles around her entrance, “what was your mission here? Were you following us?” Fingers dipped, threatening to slip into her and - 

Reba exploded in a shower of sizzling lightning, her body fluids drenching Alek who stared at the suddenly bodiless arm sticking out of her pants in shock. Dorian yanked it out of her pants, his hands cradling her face as he dropped to his knees beside her. 

He wiped blood from her brow, “I am so sorry, darling but I need to get you out of here to treat you, okay?” 

“What-“ the raspy question broke into a whimper as Dorian scooped her up into his arms. 

“We were tracking them back to the village,” he explained as he murmured a soft spell which lightened the path in soft green. “Bull said you’d fled into the forest – the town is almost completely overwhelmed, we have to leave.” The explanation was short and hushed in her ear. “Cassandra is already at the camp, Kaaras and Bull is making sure as few as possible try to follow us.” He aimed his palm flat against the sky and shot of an explosion of flashy green. “Just hang on, okay?” He whispered desperately into her ear.

-

After that everything was mostly a blur of warbled noise and broken pictures, of being carried and lifted onto a horse and blacking out soon after.

-

When she came to it she was lying on the ground in a tent and someone was arguing outside of it. Her body was wet with cold sweat and her leg felt inflamed. Bull’s grim eye stared down at her and Alek’s brows furrowed as he roughly tipped water over her lips, causing her to nearly choke as she opened her mouth desperately to quench her thirst.

Her world felt like cotton and she’d been heavily bandaged. Everything-

Everything-

Alek turned her head and vomited over the edge of her cot, blurry eyes finding Isabela’s frozen smirk staring back at her from amindst the gore of her naked leg. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> камбэк безопасно (russian/nevarran) meaning: come back safely
> 
> вы тоже (russian/nevarran) meaning: you too


	12. There

Alek closed her eyes and allowed Anthony to hold her, his fingers pressing against her growing stomach. “You’re mine,” he whispered against her ear. “Always mine.”

Aleksanteri shivered.

“Say it, котенок.” He demanded. “No one else will ever love you.” He breathed in her smell. “All humans do is betray each other. But you’ll never betray me.”

Anthony tilted her chin and pressed his rough lips against hers. 

She was sixteen.

The world was an awful place.

-

Alek closed her eyes, opened them again. The stone ceiling stared back at her, both familiar, unfamiliar, mocking and silent at the same time. She closed her eyes.

It was cold – she didn’t think she’d stopped shivering once since she’d found been thrown into her new cell. She’d gotten sick several times and she’d half-feared the fever would take her the last time. 

But she was alive. 

Shivering, bruised and covered in crusted blood, her breath still rattling from the cold.

But alive.

She opened her eyes.

She’d lost weight. Whatever pounds she’d managed to put on from the healthy, frequent meals were gone. Her muscles were wasting away and Alek knew that a familiar skeleton like face would be staring back at her if she ever found herself in front of a mirror. Her concaving stomach was mocking her and her fingers curled weakly at the scar beneath her bellybutton.

Her hair was growing, knotting at her neck.

She blew out snotty air, sniffling weakly.

Bull had shoved the bone in her leg roughly in place but it had gotten infected and healed badly from lack of care. Alek knew she was lucky they hadn’t amputated it and suspected they had healed it up because of her tattoos rather than because of some misplaced sympathy.

Her tattoos. 

Her –

She made a noise, tired on dwelling on her own stupidity and what-if’s.

She was too tired to react about a lot of things these days. 

Often, in books, when characters were being tortured, they got used to it. They grew strength and miraculously broke out, or someone came to save them, and they started rebuilding their lives and planning their revenge. 

But you didn’t get used to pain.

It got easier to keep quiet, to muffle screams and stop the tears, but it didn’t stop _hurting_.

And Alek was so, so tired of the pain. 

She curled tighter onto herself, a fruitless attempt at trying to conserve some warmth and only resulted in more pain. 

Alek wondered what Dorian was doing. If he’d gotten together with Bull and Kaaras. She hoped they were taking care of him, making him laugh, buying him fine wine and spooning him between them when they went to bed at the end of a long day. She bet – she bet Iron Bull would give amazing massages with his strong hands-

 _Hands that held her down as metal tore off her nails, hands that_ hurt-

And Kaaras – Kaaras would cradle Dorian with care and gentleness and they’d drink warm tea together under large blankets and talk about everything between magic and life. 

Alek thought desperately about a happy Dorian. Immersed herself in a world where Dorian had everything he wanted. It was a world without the Commander, without homophobic fathers’ and a war with dragons lurked on the horizon. 

A world without Templars’, where mages were free, where Leliana had married the Grey Warden and Sparrow had never disappeared. Where Hawke had found her happiness with Isabela and Anders had never blown up the Chantry but lived in peace with Justice inside of him.

A world without Aleksanteri.


	13. Is

Alek was staring at her knobbly fingers, numbly wondering if there were even any muscles left beneath her skin and reassuring herself there were by twitching them into weak claws. 

She imagined she was a cat warning her owner away from petting her – that she was basking in the sun and wanted to be left alone. 

That being alone was a choice.


	14. No

Sometimes she has trouble separating reality and dreams. As metal digs into her and her mind flashes back and forth and questions overlaps. It’s worst when the Commander visits and Alek finds herself staring at Anthony’s frowning face and wondering if everything wasn’t just a dream. 

_”Who are you working for?”_ He demands. 

_“You,”_ she gasps. 

She doesn’t understand why she gets punished.

Anthony would have stroked her head.

Anthony-

_Anthony._


	15. Mercy

They’ve amputated two of her toes and half of her left ear and grudgingly left her a blanket to keep her from dying from frostbite. Some of the skin on her cheek is missing, smudging the k of котенок, and she can still see the black dead skin on the floor where she’d awakened half-frozen against it. 

Her body isn’t shivering anymore. It’s so cold it almost feels warm and Alek wondering if she isn’t dying, forgotten by all but the guards.

No one has visited her in weeks other than to dump food and water once a day in silence. 

In the few lucid moments she has she wonders why they haven’t killed her. But then she forgets as her brain lulls her into a more pleasant reality.


	16. A Gilded Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing I use my cage for is some diehard BDSM (no, that is not an invitation).

Alek doesn’t react when her body is lifted.

In her mind she’s is holding their living son, kissing the child’s pale red hair as Anthony smiles.

Someone is talking.

All Alek can hear is a dead boy telling her how much he loves her.

-

Alek hadn’t thought about her son in years. 

The day she pushed his dead body out of her body, the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, was the first and last time she’d ever seen Anthony cry.

But the first time in her life she can’t stop thinking about him.

-

Someone is humming.

It’s such an off sound from what she expects out of Anthony’s mouth that her brain does a jerk and she finds herself staring up at an unfamiliar ceiling.

She feels sluggish and tired, weak – it’s all familiar.

Except.

There’s something soft beneath her, not hard floor. And there’s wood above her, not stone. 

She wonders if she’s dreaming inside a dream – or if she’s died. Death doesn’t sound all that far off. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone would walk into her cell and find her ice blue corpse either starved or frozen to death. It was a 50/50 chance.

Alek would bet on starvation. Her hipbones were looking ridiculously sharp last time she checked.

An insisting clapping sound muddles her out of her mind and she blinks up at an unfamiliar face that smiles prettily at her when she finally focuses.

She attempts to make a sound but she can’t find her voice or even mouth. She feels dead, inside and out. Like someone unscrewed her and put her back together, missing several essential pieces in the progress. 

“They tell me your name is Aleksanteri,” the woman says. “Do you remember-“

She says something more but Alek fades off, disinterested in a new round of questioning.

-

Alek can’t stop stroking the scar on her stomach, can almost feel her son in her arms.

Мышь. Her little Мышь.

Мышь who had never been – 

Someone is hushing her gently and Alek’s brain is torn between two different realities. It doesn’t focus properly until a wooden spoon presses against her mouth and something sharp stings her bloody mouth. 

She whined.

“You chewed the inside of your cheeks open while you slept,” Leliana tells her, spooning more soup onto the spoon and pressing it against unresisting lips. 

“где Мышь?” Alek rasps.

Leliana’s brows furrowed but Alek wasn’t looking at her anymore, her eyes having wandered past her shoulders. Leliana snaps her fingers by her ear until Alek looks back at her, only half-seeing her.

Behind Leliana childish laughter muffled by hands beckons her.

“I regret that you will not tell me the truth,” the woman with hair like Мышь says to her. “But Kaaras let me know that it had been over a year and it would be unnecessarily cruel to leave you there when you have not done any immediate harm to the Inquisition - _that we know of._.” Her eyes sharpen, warningly. “You still won’t be released but you will not be hurt either.”

_”Mама.”_

Leliana frowns. ”Are you listening?”

Alek stares at her. 

“Aleksanteri?” 

_”Nришел найти меня , мама.”_ Her son pleads. 

-

Leliana drums her fingers against her desk, eyes distant. 

Aleksanteri’s degeneration was… unfortunate.

Kaaras had been furious with her and Bull for days after they’d removed the girl from the equation. But he was also visibly shaken to have found all their faces on the body of a girl hidden in plain view and Leliana had been pleased when he focused his attention back on what needed to be done.

Dorian hadn’t been as easily placated and whatever budding romance he’d had with Bull and Kaaras had crumbled. 

Cassandra had predictably been furious at herself and had focused on her missions with ruthless efficiency. 

It felt like a waste, too. 

Aleksanteri hadn’t answered anything, wouldn’t explain who she worked for, how she had known their faces to intimately before she even became a part of the Inquisition. 

Leliana thought that it was likely their meeting with her and everything thereafter was just a deeper going plot. Her ‘fear’ of Cullen a way to cause discord in their ranks. Whether she was an agent of Corypheus or someone else remained to be seen. 

And what about the other faces? Where those people too? But their strangeness couldn’t be denied and Leliana had more questions than answers. 

She’d been surprised when Kaaras asked about Aleksanteri after months of silence. Had quietly demanded that she’d be chained up and away but to stop the torture. 

“If it hasn’t worked now it probably won’t,” he’d said, grimacing. “I haven’t been able to look Dorian in the eyes since-“ he grimaced and shook his head, leaving.

Aleksanteri looked like a skeleton with skin awkwardly pulled over the bones, as if to preserve their modesty. Her eyes were distant, almost dreamy, and Leliana suspected the girl hadn’t heard even half of what she’d told her. Wasn’t sure if she even realized she wasn’t in her cell anymore.

She’d already known the girl had Nevarran roots from Cassandra and the way she’d fallen back on the language in her lucidity only confirmed it. She’d made a note to ask the Seeker if she knew what the word she kept mumbling meant.

Leliana didn’t take pride in tearing someone apart so completely and she had genuinely come to care for the girl. She had been expecting her to come to her with explanations and apologies any day but instead she’d only brought resigned and stubborn silence. 

The Inquisition came first. She wasn’t about to risk it because of feelings.

She would never forgive herself.

Shaking all thought away she focused her attention back on her notes. She had a war to win.

-

Alek hears the rattle of chains, feels them around her left ankle when firm hand moves her around to keep her from getting bedsores. Her mind is still too muddled, from starvation and pain and hazy dreams, but she’s getting increasingly more aware and manages to stay awake more than ten minutes at a time.

She has no idea why she’s in a bed and not in her cell – one prison traded for another. It makes her wary. It wasn’t unusual for Anthony to treat her kindly before tearing her apart, taking pleasure in building her hope and then ripping it away from her ruthlessly. 

She wishes for alcohol and cocaine to drown her thoughts and feelings and wonders what happened to the package. Whether they had thrown it out or if they kept it locked up somewhere. 

Were they planning on keeping her locked up for the rest of her life? Was this her future?

Alek half contemplating cutting her leg off just to see how far she’d manage to halt herself to freedom. Considering the fact that she couldn’t lift her head more than a few centimetres she wouldn’t be winning any races but any plan was better than no plan. 

She yawned, ignoring the way her bruised jaw ached in protest. 

“Tired?” 

Alek slotted her eyes to the side, unsurprised to find the mage woman who seemed to have been assigned as her guard stepping into the room.

She was carrying a bowl of broth and a glass of water. Alek’s starved stomach curled with nausea and she turned her head away, staring at the wall beside her. 

The mage sighed. 

“You have to eat,” she said.

Alek knew she had to eat. Didn’t make her any less nauseous. Her stomach had shrunk from the lack of food and her body wasn’t handling even water well, often cramping until she threw it up. Alek had to hand it to the woman though – she was a thousand times more patient than Leah had ever been. 

She was a tall woman with long black hair and coffee brown skin. One of her eyes was white from blindness and the other so dark it was nearly black. She handled herself with the sort of confidence that came from having people listening to her.

Alek wondered why they had put someone like her with someone like herself. 

The woman reached out to touch her without reservation, moving her around and fetching extra pillows to get her leaning back in a sitting position. Had she any energy Alek might have shrunk from her touch but she was too weak and her head lolled awkwardly.

The shirt she was wearing was untied and Alek stared at the ceiling as the woman checked her wrappings and hummed thoughtfully as she looked them over.

“I don’t know about these people drawn on your body,” she said, “but several of them have been pretty brutally twisted.” She touched the twisted pink skin where Han Solo’s head had formerly been. 

Alek tried not to dwell on the fact that they had once meant the world to her. 

Mystique’s body had been completely brutalized and her breast hardly looked like a breast anymore. Lightning didn’t look much better and she hardly dared to think what her back might look at. Anthony had already done a good job with it and now it had been even more ruined.

Other than the scar from the fracture her right leg had been entirely left alone but Galadriel’s ethereal face didn’t look anything like it was supposed to. 

Bit by bit remains from her world had been torn apart. 

She blinked tiredly at the spoon of broth being pushed against her lips, realizing she’d zoned out again. Her stomach curled but she opened her mouth and tried not to gag as her scratchy throat swallowed it down. She managed three before she dry gagged and the mage drew back to give her room.

She frowned. “It would go so much quicker if I could use magic to heal you up but your body completely rejects it.”

Huh. Alek hadn’t known that. No wonder everyone was so suspicious of her. Anthony would have offed her months ago. 

“Why,“ she rasped, “haven’t you killed me?” The word formed badly on her lips. 

The mage raised a brow at her. “Hell if I know.” She admitted, shrugging. “You must have left a good impression with someone high-up.” She offered the water and Alek lapped at it weakly.

“Good enough to be kept alive, bad enough to be tortured half to death?” She gasped out slowly. 

“Nightingale doesn’t like leaving mysteries unsolved.” The mage said. “I wouldn’t question it if I were you.” 

Alek snorted humourlessly. 

“Who are you anyway?” She swallowed, her throat raw.

The mage sighed in exasperation. “This is the ninth and final time I’m telling you,” she held up a finger. “The name is Hetti – try to remember it this time.” 

Hetti helped her swallow down more water but Alek’s body soon protested and she gasped, fighting to keep it down. Hetti looked at the barely touched broth and half-drunk glass with exasperation. 

Alek understood her. She wasn’t overly impressed by herself either. 

“You know,” the mage said as she packed to leave. “You could have saved yourself a world of pain if you’d just told the truth.” 

Alek would have laughed but she didn’t have the energy, just wheezed without humour. 

The thing was.

She had.

-

“I’m not from this world,” she’d told Leliana after Bull had dragged her into the cell, only the three of them, together. “In my world you’re just characters in a game and I was fond of you so I had my skin inked to remind me of you.”

Leliana raised an unimpressed brow, her eyes cold. Behind her Bull snorted in disgust. 

“If you’re going to lie,” Bull said. “At least make it a good one.” 

-

The thing about truth was that there was no sure way of sorting it from lies. If someone had appeared before her and claimed to be from another world Alek would have called the hospital and had them evaluated for serious brain damage.

She couldn’t even blame them for not believing her. 

-

Dorian stared up at the stars, tired and sore from training. Loathe to admit it, Vivienne was a good trainer and didn’t hesitate to push him to his limits. His fire magic had been growing with leaps and bounds and he didn’t even need his staff to conjure great bursts of flames to tear enemies apart. 

But despite his tiredness he couldn’t help but dwell. 

Dorian thinks of beautiful inked skin quivering beneath his hands as he touches the gentle intricate lines that looked like they’d been made by a tiny brush, like a painting but on skin. It had been beyond anything he’d ever seen, so startlingly amazing even with the scar tissue tugging and pulling, sometimes twisting the alien figures.

He had listened to Alek tell him stories about some of the characters, her face and hands animated as she described amazing stories.

That day, looking down at his own face staring back at him with otherworldly intricateness, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes. 

The curl of his moustache, the small scar by his lip, the gleam of his hair and the small smirk. It had been like looking at a mirror and it was eerie and frightening to have himself captured so completely.

And not only him. 

Dorian had only ever seen posters of the Grey Warden who had defeated the archdemon and she had vanished years ago. He knew Leliana and the Warden had some kind of history and he’d heard enough from Kaaras to realize that her disappearance had Leliana on an edge. 

He had never seen Leliana go so pale as she did when Bull brought her to the tent, her legs folding and fingers touching small painted lips on Alek’s legs with the faintest tremble at the tips. 

How could Alek, someone neither Leliana, Hawke or Varric recognised, have their faces on her leg? A nineteen-year-old child.

It didn’t make sense. 

And she’d been punished for it.

Dorian had begged Bull and Kaaras to reconsider, to at least listen to what she had to say, give her a chance to explain. But she’d been dragged away before her leg had even begun healing properly, thrown bound before Iron Bull as he and Leliana rode hard into the night.

He had tried to talk with Cassandra but the brash Seeker had been furious and, Dorian suspected, hurt – covering it up with anger – and refusing to listen.

After that no-one would tell him anything about her.

Bull had brushed him aside and Dorian had been furious. When the qunari finally confronted him and tried to make him ‘see reason’ all Dorian had been able to see were those same hands that gripped his shoulders bearing down on Alek until she was bloody and screaming. 

Dorian didn’t even know if she was alive anymore. 

Communication between him and Iron Bull was still awkward and Kaaras had wisely stopped bringing them along for the same missions unless it was necessary. Instead he often found himself in the company of Solas or Vivienne and Blackwall who was as calm and steady as ever, offering him an understanding grimace and a hand on his shoulder. 

Sera had been the most surprising, seeking him out to eat and drink honeyed drinks to companionable silence.

-

Vivienne hadn’t had time to get to know the strange girl but she had had enough impact on her companions in the Inquisition that she had thought it necessary to find out what she could. 

She wouldn’t necessary say she was fond of Dorian but she liked the mage well enough and had thought the way everyone handled the situation plain clumsy. So when she got word on the girl being moved away from her cell she had thought to tell the other mage about it. 

Then she caught herself and decided that the situation demanded a bit more… consideration.

So she had done the only rational thing and snuck to visit the girl.

Leliana liked to think she knew everything that went on in the castle but Vivienne hadn’t been playing the Game without learning how to sneak around. It was easy enough to lure off the guard stationed outside the door.

“They really did a number on you.” Vivienne closed the door behind her, eyes drinking in the sight of blood red hair, the black scrawl over a scarred cheek and a loose shirt that fell to expose a bony body and expanse of colour peeking beneath white bandages. She frowned at the knotted mess on top of the girl’s head and tsk’ed. 

Green eyes opened to look at her, blinking tiredly. They widened however when they focused on her.

Vivienne could understand why. She might not be interested romance or sex herself but she knew she cut an alluring figure and knew how to use it to her advantage. 

Besides, she was probably the most beautiful thing the girl had seen in, well, over a year.

So she added a sway to her hip as she crossed the room and sat down elegantly on the end of the bed.

She didn’t even wrinkle her nose at the smell. 

“My name is Vivienne.” She introduced herself, reaching out to touch a lump of red hair, mentally deciding to bring along a pair of scissors next time she came to visit. 

“Alek,” the girl responded hoarsely. 

She knew it had been weeks since the girl was moved into the room and considering how bad she looked _now_ , well, Vivienne mentally patted herself on the back for not telling Dorian just yet. No, she’d make sure the girl got some flesh on her bone and some life in her eyes and then she’d tell Dorian and the other mage would _finally_ stop sulking.

It wasn’t like she was going to release her or anything. Just bring a bit of peace to the team.

And if she discovered something about those tattoos in the process? Well, Vivienne would consider that a plus.

And, really. It wasn’t as if she’d take some great pleasure in getting one-up on the oh-so-great Nightingale. 

…

Maybe just a the tiniest.

Vivienne smiled at the girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nришел найти меня , мама - please come find me, mama
> 
> Мышь - Mouse 
> 
> где Мышь - Where is, Mouse?


	17. Otherworlder Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this what we call 'mindgames'?

Alek admitted that she hadn’t talked nearly enough with Madame de Fer to have a proper understanding of her character. It wasn’t because of any particular reason, laziness probably. She hadn’t taken nearly enough time with Sera either and she’d doggedly avoided the Commander (she did not understand all the internet forums dedicated to his _wonderful_ character). 

Even if he had turned into some kind of wonderful character in the Inquisition – did people just forget everything he’d done in the first and second game? Turning a blind eye to Meredith, the death and rape of mages’. It was terrifying to think that people were so quick to stop questioning simply because of beauty and handsomeness. 

But then, people dug for kindness in the cruellest of character, romancing madmen like the Joker, Voldemort and Terminators in their minds. 

And if Alek was honest, she wasn’t an exception. She’d had a crush on Maleficent for, well, years. Bellatrix Lestrange, Mystique, Cersei Baratheon, Harley Quinn, Ursula, Regina Mills, Emma Frost, GLaDos. She wore several of them on her body, too. 

But the Commander was _real_ and it was one thing staring at a screen imagining that character loving you, another to meet them in real life and _knowing_ what they were capable of. She had never liked Cullen and she doubted she ever would.

Alek gave herself a mental shake, realizing she’d lost track of her mind, but Vivienne was watching her patiently and didn’t look annoyed at all.

“Dorian!” She gasped suddenly. “How-“ she coughed, her throat catching. 

“Dorian is fine,” Vivienne soothed. “Missing you, but fine all the same.”

Alek’s eyes widened. “He’s still-“ she coughed. “He still cares?” She rasped. 

When Vivienne nodded Alek had to fight back tears. Dorian – Dorian hadn’t forgotten about her. He hadn’t-

Her face strained from her smile as she blinked back tears from her eyes. 

“Is he with-“ her dry voice cracked. “Is he with Bull and Kaaras?” She demanded.

Vivienne tilted her head, regarding her. “No. He is not.” 

Alek’s face fell. 

“Did you expect him to be with the same people who dragged away the girl he’d come to love as a sister? Would you have done that if they had dragged him away?” Vivienne hitched an eyebrow.

Alek knew she wouldn’t have. But it still hurt to know that Dorian wasn’t with the two men he’d crushed on. Because of her. Because-

“Dorian’s choices are his own.” Vivienne said so firmly her mind cut off mid-word. “You are not allowed to take that away from him.”

Alek stared at her. “Why are you here?” She asked hoarsely.

“Curiosity,” Vivienne admitted shamelessly. “I read the reports about you – claiming to be from another world – Leliana suspects you were sent here to tear the Inquisition apart from the inside out. That you work for Corypheus.” 

Alek stared at her. “I would-“ she coughed. “I would never!” She forced out between clenched teeth, tired of her body’s limitations. 

“Oh I believe you,” Vivienne said easily. “But that doesn’t explain these.” She touched her leg, still bare, stroking her thumb over her own face.

Alek felt her heart fall and then dropped her head back tiredly. “It’s a game.” She mumbled. “Just a stupid game.”

“Ah,” Vivienne gripped her ankle. “But it isn’t such a simple game anymore, is it?” She leaned forward as Alek’s eyes widened and she sunk against the pillows behind her. “Tell me _everything_ ,” Vivienne demanded, eyes intense on the younger. “Everything about these _games_.”

-

“Solas.”

“Vivienne.” 

The elf closed his book, placing his hands upon it as he looked inquiringly at the other. He wasn’t used to the other visiting him at all, especially since Vivienne was rather… vocal… about her displeasure of his state as a hedge apostate. As two out of three mages with widely different areas of expertise it was unusual for them to be paired up during missions. 

They did occasionally discuss theories but there was something almost… maniacal… in the air about her that caught him off guard as the door slammed shut behind her. 

“You remember Aleksanteri?” Vivienne crossed the room.

“I do.” Solas agreed cautiously. “What about her?”

“Do you remember when she arrived here – onto Inquisition ground?” 

He hummed thoughtfully. “It was right after we closed the Breach, wasn’t it? The first mission?”

Something gleamed in Vivienne’s eyes and Solas found his curiosity growing. “Care to share?” He threw a leg over his knee, leaning back in his chair, itching for a cup of tea to complete the picture.

Vivienne reigned herself in, suddenly regarding him cautiously. “You won’t believe me.” She cautioned.

Solas settled for entwining his hands in his lap. “Try me.” He challenged.

-

Aleksanteri had come in contact with the Inquisition roughly a week after ‘arriving’. That was a month after the Breach had closed, Skyhold had been found and Kaaras had insistently dragged them back into the Hinterlands despite his injuries. 

She spoke of a world with tall buildings, apparatuses with moving pictures and games detailing their entire lives. Of creating Sparrow, romancing Leliana and falling in love with their world to the point where she’d had their faces engraved into her skin to always have them with her. 

Detailed the ideas and characters, spoke of a fighting system that utilized different classes and outlined different plot points and turn points. She spoke about Justice, what he was and what he’d turned into when he joined with Anders, detailed Kaaras meeting with herself and finally talked herself into a restless sleep. 

But Vivienne had heard enough to draw her own ideas and Solas listened, eyes widening. 

“What if,” she said, leaning forward, “the Breach connected us briefly with her world, dragging her into the Fade and then finally through it and into our world?” Vivienne whispered, looking as if she was on the brink of a revelation. 

“That’s impossible.” Solas shook his head.

Vivienne sighed, as if disappointed with him and he felt vaguely offended. He was Fen’Harel, a God, and he had never even _heard_ about people being displaced between worlds. The closest thing to long distance travel he’d heard about would be the Eluvians’ and they were almost entirely destroyed and merely opened a road from one Eluvian to another. 

But Kaaras _had_ come tumbling out of the Fade marked as the only survivor. Solas had never thought that possible. And he _had_ walked side-by-side the Inquisitor, Loghain, Hawke, Cassandra and Sera in the Fade after the fight at Adamant Fortress. 

And had he thought time-travel possible? No. 

“If it was true, and that’s a very big _if_ ,” he held a finger up, “how would we go about proving it?”

Vivienne folded a leg elegantly, having seated herself on his desk. “Isn’t it obvious?” She raised an eyebrow. “That demon of yours – he’d know, wouldn’t he?”

-

Alek had never gone to school.

She hadn’t exactly dwelled on it; she’d been a bit too busy with other things. But during her pregnancy she’d been thinking about it a lot and had even managed to convince Anthony to buy math- and english books along the many children tales he was covering their home with.

She’d wanted to be prepared for her child, to give him all the things she’d never had, teach him everything he’d need to get through life. 

But seven months into her pregnancy something had gone wrong and she’d woken up with the sheets covered in blood and her abdomen ravaged by pain. Anthony had been gone and she’d called Leah, sobbing and gasping, and spent several agonizing minutes alone on the bedroom floor until the woman swept in and hauled her up and into her arms. 

Surrounded by doctors and foreign words, clutching Leah’s hand like a lifeline, Мышь had been born into the world from a cut in her stomach, his body hanging lifelessly in the doctor’s hands. 

So small – too small. 

Ten fingers, ten toes, a tiny mouth that never breathed air. 

“You were lost in thought again,” Hetti informed her, having her prodded her awake with a spoon. 

“Was not,” Alek denied immediately. Her throat was getting much better and she barely rasped anymore thanks to whatever potions the woman had taken to shoving down her throat. 

Hetti levelled her with an unimpressed look.

Alek suspected the woman was spending way too much time with her and grumbled beneath her breath as she sunk deeper beneath her covers. “What are you doing here anyway? You’ve already wrapped me up all good today.” 

Hetti had delegated her feeding time to the guard outside the room who complied with stony silence that left Alek feeling awkward as hell. 

“You’re taking a trip today,” Hetti informed her. 

Alek threw her a questioning look, busy shallowing the concoction the other called ‘food’. Hetti merely smiled at her. 

-

“You are sure about this?” Leliana looked seriously at Solas. “We have already seen how magic slides right of her - what makes you so sure this will work?”

Solas exchanged a look with Vivienne, Cole hovering somewhere behind them, hands absently trailing over Eightball’s cage. 

“On his own it would be impossible.” Solas admitted. “But Cole has been getting bits and pieces from her despite whatever barrier guards her mind. By strengthening that connection anyone within the runes Dagna helps us design it should, theoretically, allow anyone within that ring to enter her mind. That way we can sort the truth from the lies and learn just who she is and who she serves.” And whether she’s from this world or not, he added privately but didn’t voice. 

He might not have known the girl but he hadn’t been blind to the impact she’d had on the Inquisition’s inner circle. He knew that the Nightingale burned to learn the truth. 

Leliana folded her hands together looking thoughtful. 

“That girl believes reverently in that impossible tale,” Vivienne tilted her head. “Would it not soothe your mind to know what caused her to spin it?” Her eyes gleamed. “Or do you fear it to be true?”

The redhead shot her a look. “You’ve spoken with her?” 

“Indeed,” Vivienne inclined her head. “It’s not every day a girl appears wearing my face on her leg. And such a fine rendition of it too.”

Leliana let out a breath through her nose. “We should probably bring in Iron Bull then.” 

“And Dorian.” Solas ignored her frown. “He deserves the truth.” He said simply. “He was the one closest to her and her betrayal hit him the hardest.”

Cole peered at Leliana over Solas shoulder with large eyes. “She who seeks should come too,” the spirit boy said simply.

Leliana resisted a long sigh of exasperation.

“Just get them here.” 

-

Dorian’s foot tapped anxiously against the floor, eyes darting frequently towards the door, half-expecting Alek to appear with a smile on her face. But it had been over a year since he’d last seen her, sprawled out in the tent with her leg gushing blood, his own face staring back at him from amidst the mess. And she’d been in the care of the Nightingale and Iron Bull ever since.

A part of him didn’t want to be there. Didn’t want to see what had become of his friend.

Another part burned darkly from the betrayal, anxious to tear the truth from her mind, to learn that it hadn’t all been a lie. That their friendship hadn’t been just a means to an end.

He didn’t know what he’d do if that’s all it turned out to be.

Cassandra wasn’t looking any better, her face in a dark scowl and arms folded where she leaned against the wall across Iron Bull who was the only one looking relaxed. Dorian hid a scowl, concentrating instead on the heavy doors.

On the floor runes burned from where Dagna had drawn them, waiting for their moment of activation. To tear into Aleksanteri’s mind and draw forth the truth they all prayed to know.

Her arrival was far less dramatic than Dorian had expected. 

Vivienne and Solas stepped into the room first, chains rattling behind them as Leliana followed, holding firmly to the girl – half to prevent her escape but also to keep her upright, her legs barely able to hold her.

Aleksanteri looked exactly like he remembered her and also nothing like herself at all.

Tired and starved, stumbling like a new-born calf on unsteady legs. Her hair was longer and matted, hanging limply in a drawn and exhausted face. They’d dressed her in long pants and shirt but Dorian could see new scars peeking over the hem. Her face had been scarred, smudging the letter on the mark scrawled down her cheek and half of her ear was missing.

She looked like skeleton, drawn and pale. And when he looked at her feet he could see she was missing toes. 

His breath caught when dark eyes found his, shame tearing through them before she lowered her eyes to the floor to avoid the eyes around her. Dorian’s heart pounded inside his chest, wanting to soothe her but brutally smothered the urge.

“Well?” Cassandra demanded. Her face was set with a glower and she was avoiding looking at the prisoner completely.

“Aleksanteri goes into the middle.” Iron Bull stepped forward and together he and Leliana lowered the small redhead into position.

Dorian pretended not to feel his heart breaking at the way she shrunk in their grip, resignation in tired eyes.

“Vivienne, Dorian and I will power the runes.” Solas instructed. “Cole, you know what to do. Everyone else, just step into the circle.”

As he kneeled down to press his palm flat against the ground, magic coursing through him, he thought he could feel Aleksanteri’s eyes burning into his neck. But before he could raise his head to look Cole pressed his palms against her cheeks and pressed his forehead against hers. 

“Show us.” The spirit boy demanded. 

-

It was as if their feet had been yanked from beneath them, a chaotic world crashing around them, pictures spiralling around them before they came crashing down abruptly.

Cole was the only one looking unruffled, peering curiously around them as the other’s scrambled to their feet.

“Where are we?” Cassandra asked, looking around, brows furrowed.

“We are inside her memories.” Solas informed. “I asked Cole to focus on her earliest memories so we should probably find her – ah, there we are.” He sounded pleased.

They all turned to where he was looking, finding a small red-haired child pelting towards them, laughing. At her heels were a flock of sheep, all hurrying with her, a dog barking behind them. Feet bare, hair wild, a laugh in her voice as she egged the sheep along, calling out to them in Nevarran.

As the sheep caught up with her she grabbed onto the closest one and scrambled upon it, clutching it as she giggled happily.

Dorian yelped as they were pulled along with her until they came to a stop near a small little house where a man with light red hair was waving and smiling. Behind him a woman was working hard and straightened, wiping sweat from her brow as she turned to call to her daughter.

Despite speaking in another language they could all understand her and watched in curiosity as the small Aleksanteri scrambled off the sheep and hurled herself into her mother’s arms. 

_“Mama! I got all the sheep back home!”_ Aleksanteri grinned, all pure happiness and childish glee. 

_“And rolled in a world of mud doing it, I see.”_ the woman ruffled her child’s hair. 

“While this is sweet and all,” Vivienne injected, “this isn’t really proving anything, is it?” 

“It’s easier to focus on memories with heavy emotional attachment.” Solas mused. “Cole, could you try moving us along?”

The spirit boy who had craned his head to look at Aleksanteri’s tiny face straightened, nodding. 

Cole closed his eyes, focusing, looking for the hurt inside of Aleksanteri and pulled them all along with a jerk as the world spiralled to a blur around them.

-

Alek, covered in blood, waking up tucked between her dead parents – their throats slit – 

The world blurred and.

They stumbled out, eyes widening and mouths opening as a world unlike any other opened around them. Tall building climbing towards the sky, metal carriages rolling on rows at the end of an alleyway where an older Aleksanteri was digging through a trash bin. 

“What-“ Dorian gasped.

Iron Bull’s one eye had widened impossibly and Leliana’s arms had dropped to her sides as she stared in shock around them. 

“This-“ Cassandra swallowed. “We are still in her memories? This isn’t – it isn’t just a dream, is it?” Her voice was thick with emotions.

No one really knew how to answer her.

“Gnawing pain, hunger – so hungry. Loneliness nipping at her heels – desperate.” Cole looked sadly at the child.

Aleksanteri grabbed for something in strange paper, eyes lightening up in triumph as she slid out of the trash bin and curled up against it. She crammed the half-eaten bun into her mouth and chewed it desperately.

“She’s so tiny.” Dorian frowned sadly, trying to shake the wonder at the world around them. But he couldn’t help the way his eyes slid from the child version of his friend, to the strange carriages speeding past – wondering if he could replicate the concept with magic.

Iron Bull and Leliana turned sharply as a man appeared from deeper inside the alley, a look in his eyes and a gait that was more akin to a prowl.

Dorian’s fists curled at the sight of blond hair and familiar face staring back from an unfamiliar man.

He kneeled down beside Aleksanteri who looked up at him with narrowed eyes, food half-forgotten. 

“So you’re the pest my men have been complaining about.” He reached out, grabbing her chin with bruising force and yanking her towards him, food tumbling to the ground when she reached out to claw at his hand. He let go of her and slapped her hard. “Feisty little kitten, are we?” He grabbed her again and this time Aleksanteri merely glared. “I like the look in your eye.” He drawled.

“I don’t like the look in yours.” Alek spit back. 

Instead of getting angry, Anthony’s smile merely grew as he leaned forward. “Oh, you’ve seen nothing yet little pet.”

“I’m not your pet!” Alek tried to jerk back but Anthony had a crushing hold on her. 

“You’re in my area,” Anthony corrected. “Everything here belongs to me.”

“You can’t own humans!” She kicked out sharply but Anthony was a grown man and caught it easily, releasing her chin and grabbing her hair, slamming her head against the ground, hard.

“Stop it!” Dorian shouted, knowing it was hopeless, knowing it was a memory.

Iron Bull put a hand on his shoulder but Dorian shook it off. 

The world whirled around them as Cole pulled them along to a new memory. 

-

They appeared to an eleven years old Aleksanteri, breathing hard as she glared at Anthony through dark red hair, thick with clumps of blood and dirt. Her skin was filthy, thick with grime and sweat, and she was naked. She burned with humiliation, fear and anger, her eyes tracking each step of the man who dared to try and claim her. 

Rail thin, her body one large torn bruise, her lip split, blood running from her right ear.

Cassandra went sickeningly pale at the sight of the child, her eyes burning with anger and visibly holding herself back. Knuckles white from where her hands curled against her arms.

Aleksanteri bared her teeth in a blood snarl and he booted her hard in her skull for her effort.

“Really, Boss – what are you planning on doing with her anyway?” Francis asked, leaning on the back-legs of his chair with a cigarette in his mouth. He was a skinny man in his twenties with hair and beard dyed blue and a thick scarf wrapped three times around his throat. 

“Oh I have plans for her – there’s potential here.” Anthony stroked a possessive hand over her ruined back and she hissed, trembling as she sunk closer to the floor to avoid his touch. He dug his fingers deep into the wounds and tore deep and hard, chuckling as she cried out.

Leliana’s mouth curled into a snarl.

“Get Leah, will you?” Anthony clamped thickly across the room. He was a hard man, his hair long and blonde, braided down his back, but his face was all angles. His shoulders were broad, his chin scruffed, and there was something… strange about the way he moved. Predatory. “She looks like she’s about to faint.”

Francis looked at the girl half-dead on the floor and his chair clicked down with a thud. “You know,” he said, pausing at the door opening. “If you bite you’re tongue off you’ll be dead in minutes. Just saying.”

Alek breathed hard against the floor, saying nothing.

The world flickered and when it came to there was an older girl crouching above her, muttering to herself as she half-supported Alek’s body while wrapping it in white. Aleksanteri blinked, yelped, and jerked hard.

The back of her head knocked the girl back hard and focused eyes turned livid.

Her head was slammed down, her arm yanked behind her back and she felt her already funky elbow snap with an odd crunch.

The other paused “Huh.” 

“You fucking broke my arm!?” Alek blinked tears from her eyes, face flattened against the floor.

“I didn’t mean to.” The other said petulantly. “No one ever tell you to be still?”

“You broke my arm!!” Alek howled back. “No one teach you not to break people’s arms!?”

“It was probably somewhere in there among all the other trash things I sort away to be forgotten.” She climbed off her. “Sit up, and I’ll… wrap your arm, or whatever.”

“Oh dear.” Vivienne raised a hand to her mouth, mouth twitching despite the situation. 

Alek did so, shivering from the cold in the room. 

They watched as the girl rummaged through a bag she’d brought with her. Alek tugged at the chain that kept her from escaping, a miserable and tired look in her eyes before she shook it off. 

“Who are you anyway?” Alek muttered petulantly. “Another whore for _him_ to fuck?” She jerked her head, chain rattling.

“Whore, side-dabbling in stitching people up and making computers sing. You may call me Leah.” She fixed a bored look on Alek who bared her teeth. “For someone playing high and mighty you seem to be in a mightily bad situation. Aren’t I glad I’m not you.” She was a rough-spoken girl, tall with broad shoulders. Her head was thick with black curls and her eyelids soft with green against her black skin and her ears jingled with rows of hoops.

“You’re willingly serving that- that _demon_!?” Alek spat out in confusion, eyes furrowed. 

Leah threw her head back and laughed. It rumbled in her chest, loud and warm despite the mockery. “Oh you have a lot to learn about this world, critter.” Leah patted her head, like one might a dog. “Good, evil, demons and angels – the only thing that matters in this world is money and power, critter, and Boss pays in spades.” 

“He’s not paying me.” Alek muttered petulantly. “He just hurts me.”

“We all have our place.” Leah finished up the last of the wrapping. “Yours just happen to be under his boot.” 

Alek made a noise. “I’m not an ant. I’m human. What he’s doing to me – that’s wrong.”

“Of course it’s wrong.” Leah agreed easily. “Never claimed it wasn’t. Just said it didn’t matter.” 

Alek squinted at her. “You really don’t care, do ya?” 

“You can’t care in this business, critter.” Leah flickered her nose. “The sooner you learn it, the faster you’ll get out from under that boot.”

She sat down on the floor after a bit of shuffling to find a spot that wasn’t urine or bloodstained. Alek watched her with scrunched brows. 

“So, tell me a bit about yourself.” Leah waved her hand. “Boss has been keeping you completely secret – though, Francis has been hinting obnoxiously about you like you wouldn’t _believe_.” She rolled her eyes. 

Alek stared. 

“Well?” Leah prompted, stretching her legs out. “Got any secrets I should know about? Life ambitions? Dreams?”

“I’m locked up in a madman’s cellar while he torture’s me and you want to know about my dreams?” Her voice went high with disbelief.

Leah pursued her mouth and nodded her head. “Yeah.” She shrugged

“I can’t believe this is the same girl Aleksanteri spoke so fondly of.” Dorian said in disbelief.

“She certainly has character.” Iron Bull muttered gruffly, studying the dark skinned girl. 

-

“Kitten.” Anthony stroked her cheek gently. “You know I don’t like it when you run.”

She was twelve, staring up at the man who’d decided she belonged to him. “I’m sorry.” She said, knowing it was useless before even opening her mouth.

Anthony shook his head in disappointment. “I really thought I could trust you this time.” He said mournfully. “You know how I hate to punish you.”

“I’m sorry, Master.” She swallowed. 

The whip uncoiled with easy precision. “I only do it for your own good, you know that right?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Strip.”

His grin was fiendish with pleasure as she turned and removed her clothes, baring her ruined back to his hungry gaze.

-

Dorian felt his heart breaking.

-

She was dressed in a short black leather skirt and a blouse knotted under her breasts. Her hair had grown out, shaved on one side and hanging down long on the other, rings in her ears. Her skin was unmarked by ink. 

She was standing side-by-side with Anthony who bent down to whisper softly in her ear before urging her along with a hand on her back and a soft shove.

“She’s a bit shy,” he said, laughing with the men and women in the club. Light flickered and strange music pounded loudly through the room. They followed along with Alek who moved confidently through the crowd, her feet light despite the high-heels she wore.

She grabbed the attention of the bartender and waved in a shot of amber liquid, downing it and ordering another which she brought with her in a clink of ice cubes.

“This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Dorian whispered, trying to make out the words of the music that practically pounded through his body.

Alek stepped past a broad man who nodded to her in recognition and vanished behind heavy red drapes and then opened the door to a small side-room.

The music in here was muted and an older woman looked up as Alek entered, eyes lightening.

“Darling!” Her voice was heavily accented. “Come, come,” she shooed the half-naked men and women around her aside so that Alek could climb over them and seat herself carefully beside her. Several jealous glances were thrown but none of them protested. 

“I knew Anthony would come to his senses,” the woman reached out, touching a small barely-budding chest with wrinkled hands. “I have heard all about you of course,” she breathed, dipping into the blouse and cupping, stroking. “The moment I saw you in person I just knew you had to be mine.”

When she turned her head to press a kiss to the younger Alek angled her face to deepen it.

“She can’t be more than thirteen,” Cassandra said in anguish.

Aleksanteri allowed the woman to fuck her, to use her, never protesting, never saying a word. When the older woman collapsed against her panting, still pressing Aleksanteri’s small fingers into herself, the door clicked open and Anthony stepped inside.

“I take it you’re pleased with her service, Natalia?” The woman lifted Alek’s fingers to her mouth, licking them clean.

“I would have her again, of course.” Natalie looked up at Anthony through black painted lashes.

“Ah, old friend. If only life wasn’t so cruel. Alek.” The redhead reached up, snapped Natalia’s neck, watching dispassionately as the dead body collapsed against her lap. “It’s a pity, really.” Anthony said mournfully. “She taught me all there was to know about this business and it hurts to see her end like this. A pity really. But she must have been pleased when I sent you to her – that old crow.” He chuckled to himself.

Alek climbed over and into his lap when he beckoned. “But no one will ever be more pleased with you than me, you know that, right?” he pressed his lips against her throat. “Any pain I give is a gift to you from me.”

“Yes, Master.”

But as she looked up and through them as large hands snuck between her legs, her eyes might as well have been dead.

-

They appeared in a small room with a strange contraption, Alek glued to the moving pictures, a black thing in her hand, sighing. She was older, around fourteen and looking healthier.

“Oh Leliana.” 

The woman jerked at the sound of her name, her eyes furrowing at the soft look in Alek’s eyes. On the screen a familiar face stared back at her, her own voice floating from it.

“What-“ Leliana gasped. “What is this?” She breathed in shock. 

“Have you gotten them to do the foursome yet?” Francis asked from behind them, lazily pressing on another contraption while drinking something from a metal can.

“With Isabela and Zevran?” Alek looked over her shoulder. “Of course.”

Leliana ignored the raised brows in her direction.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Alek sighed. “I bet it was sexy as hell.”

“Kinky little shit.”

“Prude.”

Francis snorted. “Say that to someone whose cock you haven’t had up your arse.” 

“On Master’s order.” Alek leaned over to look at him. “I mean, if that’s the only way you’re getting laid it’s pretty fucking pathetic.” He threw the can at her and Alek narrowly dodged. It thudded against the wall and fell, spilling frothing liquid onto the floor.

“Real mature.”

“Shut up before I make you.” Francis growled. “I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with her anyway. Morrigan is way sexier.”

Aleksanteri shot him an offended look. “Leliana is goddamn beautiful.” She defended. “And you can’t base a character on their looks! I mean, Leliana is like the best goddamn thing to happen to the Warden. She’s so strong… working past her lover’s betrayal to become a hero.” She smiled fondly at the pixilated version of Leliana and the real one felt her cheeks darken in shame.

-

She was fifteen, Leliana’s face carefully drawn by artistic hands with needle and colour 


	18. Otherworlder Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're gonna have a bad time, luv

”Have you ever been in love?” Alek, sixteen years old, feet dangling over the edge of a bridge in the rain, asked the girl beside her. 

Leah, sensibly, had a coat with the hood pulled up, but Alek sat in a t-shirt and shorts, clothes absolutely plastered to her body. 

Dorian kneeled down beside her, curling his hands against his body to deny the urge to reach out and touch her, knowing his hands would go right through. Her legs were still mostly bare but her arms were covered in familiar ink and hidden in the art were dark bruises. Her lip was split and a large gash on her forehead wept blood which she brushed away impatiently along with rain from her eyes.

“Is this about the girl you fucked behind the motel last month?” Leah wrestled with a package of chocolate which she tore open with triumph and shoved into her mouth with a content hum. Drops of water splattered against the open package.

“How do you even know about that?” Alek asked suspiciously.

“Obviously I was watching you. I mean, that blonde – those were some legs, baby.” Leah kissed her fingertips. 

“I am disturbed by the fact that I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not.” Alek deadpanned. “But not, not the blonde… just, generally. What’s love like?” 

Leah stared out over the water before them, thinking. 

“You ask such strange questions, critter.” She said finally. “I suppose love is… warmth. Safety. Knowing you have a person in your life that, when you see them, just makes everything alright. A person whose warmth you seek, curling closer, aching to cocoon yourself in their scent…” Leah turned abruptly. “You aren’t thinking of Anthony, are you?” She asked suddenly, suspiciously. 

Alek hunched down guiltily. 

“Critter…” Leah looked at her, lost. “You don’t love Anthony. What brought this on?” 

Aleksanteri refused to look at her.

“Alek.” Leah demanded, now worried.

“I’m…” her hands folded over her stomach, fingers like claws. “Leah, I’m _pregnant_.” 

The rain continued falling and a bar of chocolate tumbled forgotten into the river as the dark girl looked at the redhead in horror.

-

“You need to abort it.”

“Anthony will kill me.” 

Leah let out a noise of frustration. “You can’t bring a child into this – this _shithole_.” She slammed her fist into the wall. “This isn’t fair,” she breathed. “This is – this is beyond unfair. This is shitty.”

She stared at the plaster, breathing hard. 

Alek hovered behind her, looking lost and unsure. 

“He’s got people watching you, doesn’t he?”

Alek remained quiet. 

“Critter…” Leah narrowed her eyes at her. “You didn’t chose this life.” 

Alek shrugged. “I don’t know any other.” 

-

Leliana watches helplessly as a younger Aleksanteri stumbles, her thighs red with blood. The raw horror and helplessness in her face – so young, much too young. 

“Leah- please, you gotta help me – there’s just so much _blood_.” Sobbing, desperately pleading, “ _please_.”

-

Ten fingers, ten toes, a tiny body that never breathed air. 

-

“YOU MURDERED HIM!” Anthony slammed his fists against her body over and over again, her bones cracking and skin bruising, splitting, beneath the force of his rage. The desperation and sheer rage in his eyes burned like nothing else. 

“You murdered our son!” He dug his nails into her flesh, tearing. “You useless _thing_.”

Tears splashed against her ruined face and something inside her died in the face of the devastation reflected so clearly in the eyes of her Master.

“You killed him,” he whispered. “You _killed him."_

-

Alek levelled the gun at the trembling child – couldn’t – 

The sound tore through the room, brain and blood splattering.

Alek downed an entire bottle of Jack’s and overdosed on cocaine.

Leah is the one who brings her back.

-  
And then –

“Leah is dead.” 

-

Why.

-

Does.

-

It.

-

Feel.

-

Like.

-

She’s.

-

Breaking?

-

“Everything is going to hell.” Francis muttered, casket lowering into the earth. “Do you ever regret joining this life?” 

Alek stared numbly at the casket.

“Suppose it doesn’t matter,” he sighed. “You know, my advice still stands. That gun? It’s good for a lot of things.” 

-

Alek presses the head into her mouth, finger trembling against the trigger. She’s in the nursery, where her baby boy was supposed to laugh and cry.

She sits for hours, baby lullabies playing in the background.

Dorian’s draws a breath of relief when she hurls it through the room with a scream. It thuds to the floor and she buries her head into her face and weeps.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she rocks and cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh god I’m so sorry.”

-

She’s on her bike, running an errand for Anthony and then there’s green and –

-

Aleksanteri prodded the dead body with a stick, carefully lifting the eyelid with the tip it and tilting her head thoughtfully. “She’s dead.” Obviously, her brain snarked. The fact that there was a gigantic hole in the middle of her chest instead of breasts was sort of a dead giveaway. 

She sat back on her butt and drew her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. “This is a problem.” 

Instead of dying, as she’d so clearly been about to as she crashed headlong into traffic, she’d crashed headlong into a forest filled with dead people. Her bike was whole, if a bit scratched, and the packages she’d been delivering were all whole and with her-

-

Dorian groans, pressing his palms against his eyes when they’re thrown from her memories with a jerk. Pictures swirled before his eyes, a mishmash of colours, impressions and muted feelings.

Cole looks as chagrined as a spirit boy can. “Memories are hard,” he decides, moving towards Aleksanteri who looks dazed. 

“You did good,” Solas says a bit breathlessly. “I think we got what we needed,” he straightened, turned to Leliana who was stark pale. “It’s pretty undeniable now,” he looked to the prisoner. “We got an Otherwordler on our hands.”

Dorian stumbled and sunk to his knees before Alek who looked up with wild eyes. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “By the Maker am I sorry.” He cradled her face in his hands. “Aleksanteri, can you ever forgive me?” 

She’d flinched at his first touch but sunk almost bonelessly into his arms. He noticed she was trembling and made to unbutton his cloak when a large hooded one fell on top of her. Cassandra kneeled down beside him, face grim. “I brought it along in case-“ she shook her head. “We have committed a grave sin.” She whispered. 

The door clicked shut and when Dorian looked up he realized the Nightingale had fled the room.

-

That night Dorian stripped her naked and his hands smothered over every nick and scar on her body. His large palms slid over the twisted mess where her breast had once been after reach careful removal of white bandage.

He counted her toes and fingers, pressed his lips against the scar on her cheek.

When he’d finished wrapping her up he curled them both beneath the thick covers in his bed. 

Alek pressed against him, seeking his warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Alek’s breath ghosted over his chest. “You never stopped believing in me.” She curled her fingers over his heart. “You don’t have anything to apologize for,” she murmured sleepily.

“I watched your memories without permission.”

“If there’s anyone I would have wanted to see the truth, it’s you.” She peered up at him and the naked trust he could see in them very nearly broke him in half. “I am a bad person, Dorian.”

He sighed. “You’ve done bad things, darling.” He stroked her hair, tugging gently at the knots. “But it doesn’t make you a bad person.”

She furrowed her brows. “Then what am I?”

And Dorian told her the only thing he knew to be the truth with absolute certainty. “My friend.”

Alek snorted a laugh against his skin. “You are such a dork.” She breathed a long, deep sigh. “I missed you.” She admitted.

Dorian kissed the crown of her head.

-

Alek watched as Dorian sunk into the warm water with a groan of content. 

“We are the lousiest pair of gay people in all of Thedas.” She decided. “I got the pretties eye candy around and I’m not even attracted to him. And you regularly feel me up without even a hint of arousal. I almost feel offended.” Dorian shot her an amused look. 

“Would you feel better if I walked around with a constant hard on?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Decidedly not.” 

“There you go then,” he dunked his head, ruffling his black locks when he resurfaced. He shot her an expectant look. “Well, come on.” 

Alek rose carefully, her legs trembling as she took three stumbling steps forward. But Dorian watched her expectantly and reached out to steady her when she got close enough. It was a team effort, actually getting her into the water, but Dorian was patient and Alek determined. 

She grimaced when she finally sunk into the water. “I feel like a breeze will do me over.”

“Look like it too.”

“You are not being helpful, Dorian.”

“Wasn’t aiming too.” He drew her closer, hugging her. Alek twisted her neck and drew in his scent. “It’s still strange, seeing my face on your leg.” He admitted. “But I can kind of see why you’d want to preserve a beauty like me on your body.”

Alek made a noise of amusement. “It’s only fair you’d do one of me then, isn’t it?” 

Dorian scoffed. “Let’s not exaggerate.” 

Silence settled between them as Dorian lathered up her hair. Alek longed to do the same for him but her limbs were still weak and the very thought tired her.

“It must have been strange,” Dorian mused. “To wake up and realize you were in, what to you, had only been a game.”

“I thought I was in a bad kind of dream the first couple of months,” Alek laughed, leaning back so Dorian could rinse the lather out. “But I didn’t wake up.”

Dorian leaned his chin on her head. “I have to admit that the thought of only being a picture on an apparatus in your world is disconcerting.” 

Alek sniggered. “You wouldn’t believe the fan clubs dedicated to you.” She curled closer to him. “People spent hours imaging stories about you – theories about your youth, your parents – explorations of your love to Iron Bull, the Inquisitor, Krem, Cullen – and their love for you.” Dorian stilled. 

“You mean people imagined me in a relationship with…”

“Anyone and everything that could show you the proper love you deserved. One of my favourite ones pictured Alistair and the Warden, in a world where she was a man, double teaming you.” She sighed wistfully. “Man, the way the made you _quiver_ \- ouch!” She elbowed Dorian for the pinch in her thigh. 

Dorian carefully hauled her out of the bath and dressed her in loose pants and a sweater that pooled on her body. He helped her fold the sleeves up and clenched the pants ends with fluffy socks which he then helped into thick and steady boots. He eyed her critically.

“You still look half-dead.” He decided. “But at least you’ve got some colour in those cheeks. I’ll fix your hair tonight but now I think breakfast is in order.” He clapped his hands together. 

He dressed quickly and efficiently, smothering his hair back quickly and didn’t bother to oil his moustache. Instead he scooped up a dozing Alek who squeaked in surprise and threw her arms around his neck. 

“Dorian?” She mumbled into his neck as he carried her out the room and down the stairs. “Where, exactly, are we going?” 

“To get breakfast.” He said simply. “There’s been some changes while you were… gone… and the Inner Circle all eat breakfast together in one of the side-rooms in the morning.”

“But I’m not in the Circle.” Alek protested. 

“Today,” Dorian clutched her tighter, “I don’t care.” 

Inside he ached at how light she was in his arms, like a child. He had no illusions about some miraculous recovery and he knew it was only a matter of time before he’d had to leave her to head out on another mission for the Inquisition. But he was dedicated to make sure she wouldn’t be forgotten and left in some room when that happened. Or allow for her to hide away. 

He knew he had Cassandra on his side – knew Solas and to an extent, Vivienne, was curious enough about her appearance. But he didn’t want curiosity – he wanted care. 

Iron Bull and Kaaras were out. 

Cole… Cole meant well, but he was still learning about himself and what it meant to be human and Alek was… frail. 

Dorian had his mind on Varric, on Sera but more importantly, Blackwall. While everyone knew his true identity now he had sort of remained Blackwall to them. And the Blackwall he had gotten to know was patient and ever so gentle with the animals he soothed daily in the stall and that was what he wanted for her.

He wondered what it would take to trick Blackwall into applying the same care to Alek.

-

Blackwall was still completely taken aback by the fact that not only had he been forgiven but he had been given a chance to repent by serving the Inquisition. 

Kaaras had spoken to him for several hours, asking questions and listening carefully to what he had to say. When, instead of being taken to the throne room, Kaaras brought him before the Left and Right hand of the Divine to give him his judgement – it had been a relief.

And surprise.

And the day after he had been brought down to eat breakfast with the rest of the Inner Circle teasing him about being late. 

But as he sat down the air was noticeable different this morning. Cassandra was nothing like herself, foot tapping anxiously and mouth in a frown as she shuffled her food around without eating. Solas and Vivienne, who rarely spoke, were huddled up and speaking quietly with each other. Sera was regarding all of them suspiciously, balancing on her chair with a large loaf of bread which she nibbled on. Varric was looking expectantly at the door when Blackwall stepped through and raised a hand in greeting.

Neither Kaaras nor Iron Bull had arrived yet and they were usually two of the first ones down, soldiers in soul and nature. 

Cullen stumbled up beside him, yawning. Then paused when the picture registered.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, rubbed his jaw. “This is different.” He sounded bemused.

Blackwall felt with him. 

Together they stepped into the room and took their places, filling their plates in an act of normalcy. Blackwall had managed two spoons of porridge into his mouth when the door opened and the Nightingale stumbled inside.

Stumbled.

Blackwall never thought he’d see the day.

Leliana looked harried, her hair messy with dark bags under her red-rimmed eyes. She looked around the room and her eyes met with Cassandra who had half-risen when the other entered.

“We have news.” Leliana breathed out, her accent thick. “Aleksanteri, who was put in prison last year, has been found out to be innocent. It was recently brought to our attention that she is from another world entirely. You will find a file by your respective rooms with the details.” She then turned and in an entirely non-Leliana move, fled the room.

The silence she left was thickening. 

Sera’s chair dropped down with a loud ‘clack’. “She’s whut now?” She demanded. 

Cassandra slammed her spoon down. “She’s from another world and we-“ she made a noise, half-disgusted and part a huff of dark, struggling emotions and folded her arms. 

“We all heard she had our faces inked to her skin,” Cullen voiced with a cautious look at the Seeker who, if possible, scowled harder but kept silent. “How does that go together?” 

Solas cleared his throat. “It turns out, that in her world, we are nothing more than video game, pictures on a screen detailing the Wardens and Hawke’s adventures. She was brought through to our world by the Breach opening up temporarily to her world when we were closing it.”

Varric hummed. “So Ginger appeared here by a fluke?” 

“As far as we can tell.” Solas agreed. “We will of course research it-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Varric waved his hand. “You do all that. But where is she now?”

“ _Anxious, wondering, clinging to her only safety in a world shaken by storm. Will they hate me? Will they condemn me?_ Cole whispered, his voice breathless. “She is outside the door.” He informed them plainly.

And just ten short seconds later Dorian inched carefully through the door with a rail thin figure wrapped around neck and waist. 

Blackwall recognised her, of course. He had often seen her trailing along with Dorian or training with Cassandra in the courtyard. He had watched from the background as she opened up, her face lightening and becoming happier, more daring.

But this.

Blackwall felt the instinctive need to reach out and soothe the anxiety away from her eyes. To encourage her out of the hunching shoulders and unsure flicker of her mouth as Dorian coxed her into sitting down, immediately taking his place beside her to help steady her. 

He spoke to her softly as the others averted their eyes and struck up slow and awkward chatter, eyes darting frequently to her. He served her a small bowl of soup and broke off bits of bread into it to soften them and add some substance after removing the bits of meat from it.

Her fingers were scarred and weak and despite her best effort she didn’t manage more than three determined spoons into her mouth before it dropped. Blackwall caught the quiver of her lips, the resignation in her eyes as she allowed Dorian to help feed her between bits of his own food.

They were seated directly in front of him and Blackwall was reminded of the scarred beasts bought or liberated by the Inquisition from bad owners and war. 

When green eyes flickered to meet his Blackwall knew he wouldn’t touch the file Leliana had left him. Blackwall knew a fellow tortured soul when he saw one.

And he was determined to help her.


	19. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up in Thedas with her bike, a pile of cigarettes and a bag of cocaine Alek eventually finds herself in the service of the Inquisition. But she's a girl from the 21st century and after years of covering under the hands of a man she's sick and tired of keeping her mouth shut and head bowed.
> 
> She just hopes no one ever get a glimpse of her leg. She's not sure she'd be able to explain how all the main-characters from Origins to the Inquisition came to decorate her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are all playing a game - this one is not a fun one

When Blackwall had figured he wanted to help the girl, he hadn’t actually meant to catch her sneaking out late at night, looking as wobbly as a new born calf. She was clutching a cloak he recognised to be Dorian’s, each step looking as if she’d collapse. But with one hand pressed against the stone she edged carefully forward.

Blackwall stopped tending to the horses, tilting his head as he studied her.

He knew Dorian had been sent out on a mission, leaving Aleksanteri to her own devise, and he hadn’t seen her at breakfast the last three days. Without Dorian to help her down she probably hadn’t bothered.

She wasn’t looking much better than she had those weeks ago, maybe a bit more fat, a little less like a walking skeleton. But bags hung beneath her puffy eyes and her cheeks were pale and her bare feet with the loss of toes were finding how to steady properly with the loss and not doing a very good job, especially with how weak she was.

Whatever she was doing wandering around in the middle of the night escaped him.

Brushing his hands on his tunic he ambled over to her, trying to look as non-threatening as possible as he moved into her line of vision, visibly startling her.

“Blackwall!” she gasped, curling on herself and biting down on her lower lip. “I didn’t see you there,” she said somewhat awkwardly.

“I was tending to the horses,” he gestured behind him. “Some from Iron Bull’s company arrived earlier and their mounts needed a good brushing down and some care after their journey.” He mentally stored her flinch at the name into the back of his head, suspecting just what kind of care she’d been in the last year. “What are you doing out so late?” 

Something defensive grew in her gaze. “I’m not a prisoner anymore, am I?” she drew Dorian’s cloak tighter. “I can be wherever I want to be.” She said petulantly.

Blackwall held his hands up, as he might to a spooked horse. “I’m not questioning it, just curious. You looked like you could use a hand.” 

“Oh.” She deflated. “Sorry, I’ve just-“ she searched for words, found none.

“Do you want to help me out?” 

She looked at him warily but after a brief mental debate slowly held her hand out and Blackwall gently supported her over to the stall. 

There were of course many different mounts in the stable, rows upon rows, but Blackwall thought the temperamental dracolisks could wait for another night. The horses who’d just arrived were tired and dozy, leaping up the soft attention as he clucked a large brunet mare over after opening her gate.

“This is Mara,” he said softly to Alek who clutched a gate to steady herself while reaching up and slowly, trembling, put a hand on her snout.

Mara closed her large black eyes, pressing into the touch with a soft huff of breath and Blackwall was rewarded with a soft, awed smile as the girl pressed into the positive response to her touch.

He kept an eye at her from the corner of his eyes, finding her a stool so she could sit down and brush Mara gently and repetitively, reaching with trembling arms to get the dust from her coat. He didn’t comment when she faltered and settled for small gentle pats against the horse’s neck. 

Instead he let her relax in the noise of the stables and soon saw her eyes drooping tiredly, head resting against Mara’s neck. The horse had long since fallen asleep.

Clicking his tongue he got Scarecrow to enter his box and then gently stepped over to lift her up. She snuffled but didn’t wake as he nudged Mara awake and got her back into her box which had been cleaned and filled with an extra layer of straw. He bumped Mara with his hip and got her to fold down, lowering Aleksanteri down beside her until the two curled up together.

He tucked Dorian’s coat around her and shook another blanket out and covered her up with it until she was just a tuft of red against brown.

He then went back to taking care of the other horses, occasionally humming to himself as she girl slept soundly.

-

_”I’m telling you the truth but you aren’t_ listening.”

The tired, broken words echoed through Leliana’s head as she fought to find sleep. Her white-knuckled grip on her covers as she struggled to relax, one hand pressed against her face, pressing her eyelids down and shut as she tried to blanked her mind from the memories that haunted her.

She had always been so sure of her path under the Maker after the Divine had taken her in, had made her her left-hand, had given Leliana the means and trust to do what she was best at. Her Divine’s death had left her floundering but she’d thought she was doing good with the Inquisition.

But violently breaking someone under the course of a year because she was feeling _betrayed_ \- 

She made a noise and curled up, attempting to banish her regrets. 

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to take drastic measures against someone she’d been close to but it was the first time she’d been proven so violently wrong. She’d broken Aleksanteri’s bones. She’d dunked her head under water over and over against until the girl hung limply in her grip, unable to support herself as she gurgled for breath. She’d left the girl naked and bereft, broken, so thin that she looked moments away from death.

Leliana had seen the missing toes, her mutilated breast, half her ear gone and the scars that had doubled and twisted the pictures on her body that the memories had revealed she’d put there because she’d _cared_. Because Leliana might only have been a picture on a strange screen in Aleksanteri’s life but the girl had loved her enough to permanently imprint her face onto her leg with the kind of desperate love of someone struggling to find anything to keep her upright under the hand of a violent man. 

She rolled onto her back, staring emptily up at the ceiling.

Leliana could admit to herself that the entire situation had felt like Marjolaine all over against. That violent betrayal had left her fumbling, angry - _pained_. It felt like the fragile trust she’d given Aleksanteri had been broken without care, that in the end, it had been manipulations and lies to destroy the small world Leliana had struggled to build up after her crumbled with the death of the Divine.

To realize that she was so wrong. That Aleksanteri’s entire existence in this world was nothing more than a fluke caused by the rift that someone of their world had caused- 

It _hurt_.

It hurt to realize that she was so wrong and that she’d essentially become the same monster Aleksanteri had struggled half her life to escape.

Leliana lifted her hand, stared at the pale skin and scattering of scars. The same hand that had dug a knife into flesh and twisted her own face in Aleksanteri’s thigh.

Leliana didn’t know how to make it right.

-

Cullen wasn’t entirely sure as to what was going on but it all came spiralling down to a single person and for the first time he was unsure.

He’d swore he’d do everything to protect Dorian. Had backed Leliana up, even egged her on to make sure the Nightingale put the girl behind bars where she couldn’t hurt Dorian or anyone else. He’d talked long and hard with Leliana, with Cassandra, had made his point clear – 

And now, it was turning out that the girl was innocent.

He’d been right by Dorian’s side as his friend struggled to deal with the betrayal, keeping his own part in the decisions under wrap to make sure he was there to support Dorian without being turned away.

Cullen felt strangely… ashamed. Regretful. He could admit to that.

He still thought something about the entire thing felt wrong, that just because they’d been in her mind didn’t mean that she didn’t have ulterior motives they could have missed – 

Solas had said that it was a delicate business. That they had only seen her past, confirmed that she’d done bad things at that. And now she’d spent a year being tortured – Cullen knew intimately that that kind of pain could drive you to do. Even if Aleksanteri hadn’t been a danger, what said she couldn’t be now?

The girl had contact with all the Inner Circle, especially Dorian, and several who had taken an interest in her. Leliana in particular had been out of focus as of late and Cullen knew it was because of Aleksanteri.

Cullen was… regretful. But he was also concerned.

And he was determined to keep an eye on her.


End file.
